#him get upset over his coworkers stopping in the middle of work

[bruhstation]

checking out theodore tugboat right now and all I can say is that foduck would really benefit from reading the dsm v

[marksbear2]

Hi, i failed my finals :) I would like a mind distraction. I would like to request a Bucky Barnes X top male reader. But! Bucky likes to dress up :p so maybe reader comes home early and catches Bucky dressed in something girly and that leads to 🔥💥🔥💥🔥💥 bed breaking voice cracking steamy spice. And then cuddles afterwards. Pretty please 🛐🛐🛐

BUCKY BARNES X TOP MALE READER

Awww you failed your finals? Now I have to write this for I can cheer you up, Bucky is gonna wear that dress we were talking ang other day.

⚠️Warnings- Bucky in a dress, smutt with plot, making out, handjobs, rough, fast, top reader, bed shaking, loud, moan, and etc⚠️

Y/n was sitting down in the break room of his job on his phone listening to one of his coworkers talk about their family life. Scrolling through his phone and listening to his friend go on and on about his family Y/n didn’t seem annoyed or bothered.

“So me and Cherry has this huge fight she was telling me how we’re getting distant and how I’m always busy with work.” The coworker says catching Y/n’s attention. Y/n thought to himself.

“I’ve been busy with work to…way too tired to do anything with Buck.” Y/n thought to himself immediately comparing his coworker’s problem to his own relationship.

“How I haven’t been showing her any affection and all that stupid crap.” The coworker said as he shrugged and ate his lunch. “Why every partner gotta be clingy you know.” Which each word his coworker spoke Y/n realized that he was doing the exact same thing as his coworker. 

“Ah shit, uhm something just came up at home I gotta go. Clock out for me will ya, I’ll return the favor next time.” Y/n said gesturing to his phone as if he just got a emergency text, before his coworker could respond Y/n pat his back and got his things and left.

Y/n left the building and went to his car to drive home. Y/n unlocked the door to his car and got inside and turned the car on. “Fuck…how could I be so stupid.” Y/n mumbles softly to himself lightly hitting the steering wheel in realization before driving out the parking lot and to his home. He many ideas swarmed around in his head thinking about all sorts of ways he could make things up.

Deciding Y/n stopped by a flower shop to buy a beautiful bouquet then after he bought some chocolates from a nearby by store. 

As soon as Y/n got to the apartment and tried to be as quiet as he could being entering the house. He would usually announce himself that he’s home. But he really wanted to surprise him. So he quietly walked to the bedroom and as quiet he could opened the door and peaked his head inside.

“Hey Bucky, I’m home I got you something.—“ Y/n cuts himself off as he looked at his boyfriend. 

Bucky stood in the middle of the room in front of the mirror wearing a beautiful light blue sundress. Bucky’s face was flushed full with embarrassment and shock as he turned his head to face Y/n’s own shock face.

“It— uhm.— let me explain.” Bucky stuttered over his words.

Y/n didn’t respond back just silently looking over the dress. With more awkward silence Y/n finally decided to speak. “When did you get this?” Y/n mumbled out as he put the flowers and chocolate to the side. He walked over to Bucky and began touching the ends of the sun dress. Bucky was to embarrassed to say anything. 

Y/n himself was speechless as well. He didn’t feel mad or upset, just confused. And honestly he felt attracted. Y/n never imagined Bucky in a dress, but right now it’s like he fell in love with him all over again.

“I’m gonna take this off—“ Bucky was cut off by Y/n own words. “No. Keep it on…you look good. 

“You think so? I- I thought you didn’t like girly things.” Bucky’s face was getting more red as Y/n pulled the hem of the dress up touching Bucky’s thighs and just having a good feel of bucky’s upper legs before trailing up.

“Yeah- just not on myself. So when did all of this start? You look so good in this dress doll.” Y/n whispered as he began to move closer and pressing his body against Bucky’s own and kissing his cheek and jaw.

“Just a few months ago…I like myself in clothes like this. I’ve been hiding the dresses and stuff I’m the closet.” Bucky confessed as he slowly and softly gasped as he felt Y/n’s hands run over his body. 

Y/n pulled Bucky closer and lay him down on the bed. Y/n got on top him and pulled the hem fully up and exposing Bucky’s bare cock. Y/n spat into his hand and wrapped his hand around Bucky’s soft cock stroking it slowly to get Bucky hard. Y/n leaned up and began to kiss Bucky slowly but passionately. Bucky whispered into the slow but deep kisses. 

Bucky’s cock grew harder from the kisses and Y/n’s hand stroking him. Bucky used his free hand to tug on Y/n’s belt, showing Y/n that he wants him to take it off.

Y/n let go of Bucky’s dick and used his hands to take his belt off and threw it to the side before pulling his pants and boxers low but not taking them fully off just enough for his cock to spring out.

Bucky wrapped his hand around Y/n’s cock jerking it off the same pace Y/n was jerking him off in. Y/n leaned in and kissed Bucky back. Y/n went back to jerking off his boyfriend now fully hard cock.

Both men were making out and jerking off each other off. It was a really hot and passionate scene. Y/n’s tongue entered Bucky’s mouth.

After a while Y/n broke the kiss and pulled away reaching to the night stand and getting a bottle of lube out and squeezing some into his fingers and rubbed them in.

“Open your legs for me, doll.” Y/n said and immediately Bucky opened his legs. Y/n leaned back to Bucky and moved one finger into his hole. Y/n was looking down watching his own movements. 

He moved and curled his finger inside of Bucky stretching him out. Bucky moaned and whimpered from Y/n’s finger thrusting in and out of him. Bucky’s cock began to leak precum and Y/n laughed softly. “Your already close from handjob and fingering.” Y/n sucked onto his teeth making a “Tch Tch” noise in a teasing tone. 

Y/n moved another finger inside and really began fucking him with his fingers. 

He curled his fingers into Bucky’s prostate as he used his free hand to grab and stroke his boyfriend’s already wet and trembling cock.  

Bucky was letting out deep moans and softly whining as he moved his hips around. Y/n curled his fingers deeper into Bucky’s prostate. Y/n began to make a scissoring motion. Bucky moaned and breathed heavy as he wrapped his arms around Y/n’s shoulders holding him tightly.

Y/n let go of Bucky’s cock and pulled his fingers out and grabbed the bottle of lube and squeezed some onto his cock and rubbed it so it’s wet. Y/n squeezed a bit more onto Bucky’s hole before moving his cock against the entrance of Bucky’s hole.

Y/n slowly moved his cock inside holding Bucky by his thighs keeping his legs apart and in the air.

Slowly Y/n rocked his hips back and forth moving the tip in and out. Y/n moved his cock deeper and pulled out before moving back halfway. Y/n thrusted in and out in a rhythm before thrusting his cock fully inside Bucky.

“Gahh!~ ngh… fu-fuck Y/n!~” Bucky immediately moaned out with his legs tensing. 

Y/n rocked himself back and forth thrusting in and out of him. Bucky moaned and whined as Y/n held his legs higher thrusting as deep as he could.

Bucky’s cock was hidden on the dress so the hard cock had a tent in the dress. Y/n’s chest was pressed into Bucky’s own. 

Soon enough Bucky’s moans went from quiet to loud and pleasure real quick. Bucky moaned loudly as Y/n slowly fucked him. Suddenly Y/n’s slow pace quickly turned fast and rough. Y/n drilled his cock deep inside Bucky’s hole abusing it. 

Bucky’s hands flared around searching for anything that he could hold onto. His hands found the sheets below them a gripped onto them for support. Y/n’s cock rammed in and out of Bucky’s hole using him as if he was a toy. 

After a while Y/n hoist Bucky from his back and pulled him into his lap fucking him messily. Thrust after thrust Y/n felt the knot in his stomach tighten. Y/n gripped onto Bucky’s hips as Bucky wrapped his arms around Y/n's shoulders holding onto him tightening  and moaning nonsense into his ear. 

"Y-Y/n! Y/n!~ I'm i'm..." Bucky couldn't even finish his sentence as he came hard all over himself and his own dress. It wasn't the first time the man had an orgasm, but every time he does it feels new to him. The bed was squeaking and head board hitting against the wall as Y/n thrust in and out faster and deeper.  

Bucky rocks his hips back and forth trying to be as gentle as he can. Y/n moves his face to the crook of Bucky’s neck kissing it softly. "Fuck. F-fuck." Bucky groans out as Bucky feels his cock twitch inside him. 

Y/n begins to pick up his pace, but not too fast or rough. Y/n's thrust was at a perfect speed for him to reach his peak. 

"Bucky~ ohh~ fuck Bucky. I'm close." Y/n says with a moan moving his hands onto either sides of the bed holding onto the sheets tightly as he fucks deep, but gentle inside Bucky. 

"Buck!~ fuck baby! I'm about to cum!" Y/n warns feeling Bucky scratching and holding onto his back. Bucky could feel his own cock about to cum as well. With a few more thrust Y/n cums deep inside Bucky burying his seed deep inside him. Bucky moaned loud as he scratched Y/n’s back.

The two began to breathe heavy Y/n kissed Bucky’s cheek whispering praises in his ear. 

Y/n pulled himself out and watched the cum leak out of Bucky’s hole and down his thighs. Y/n cradled Bucky in his lap kissing him softly, peppering kisses all over his face while picking him up in his arms before laying him down on the bed. Bucky was tired and laid down onto the bed. Y/n went to the bathroom and picked a towel before coming back and wiping Bucky clean.

As he cleaned him Y/n was gentle and telling praises and good sweet things. Bucky was laughing softly as his face was flushed. 

“You did so good…I love you so much Buck.” Y/n praised kissing him causing Bucky to giggle.

“I love you too.” Bucky and Y/n kissed back and forth swapping and whispering praises to one another while cuddling.

THE END

[lurkingshan]

Japanese QL Corner

There is still only one JBL airing live, but thankfully it's a banger, and we are blessed with another great Japanese drama with queer themes in the meantime. This first show is on Gaga and the second is available via fan sub, and I highly recommend watching both!

In other news, The Novelist appears to be coming off Gaga soon, and I don’t yet know if it will show up anywhere else (it is no longer on Viki). If you’ve been saving it for a rainy day, I encourage you to watch it ASAP. You can also submit a comment to let Gaga know you want them to keep it!

At 25:00 in Akasaka

This show is killing me softly, and its penultimate episode was excruciating in the best way. I screamed out loud when Shirasaki balked and told Hayama he wanted him to stay so he could get into his role, and I swear I could see Hayama's heart cracking in two. I have never been so upset and scared to see a sex scene start, and I was so very relieved that Hayama put a stop it before he could damage himself further. I guess he finally found his limit, and I was glad he values himself enough to say no to Shirasaki in the moment. Juxtaposing that heated scene with the sterile and choreographed sex scene for their characters drove the knife in further. And what a place to end things! It's not yet clear if anyone will be running, but I stand by my opinion that Shirasaki is the one who keeps dealing the blows, so he's the one who needs to gird his loins and finally be honest about why he's asking for these things from Hayama.

Bonus: Ossan no pantsu ga nandatte ii janai ka

We have the privilege of watching this one thanks to the hard work of @isaksbestpillow, who has now subbed the first four episodes of this wonderful show. This drama is about a middle-aged salaryman who realizes his old school values and failure to keep pace with the changing times is ruining his relationships--and he actually cares! Through a friendship he forges with his younger gay neighbor, Daichi, Makoto sets out to "update" himself so that he can better understand and connect with his coworkers, his kpop-loving wife (Mika), his mangaka daughter (Moe), and most especially his queer and gender questioning son (Kakeru). This is a loving and sympathetic portrayal of a man who has been failed by patriarchy and fallen behind the times but who genuinely loves his family and knows he needs to do better, and the younger man with a generous heart who helps him do it. The story is funny and poignant in equal measure; for every moment where Makoto has you groaning out loud at his misogyny, toxic masculinity, and general ignorance, there is another where he brings you to tears with his sincere effort to change. And I love that Daichi is not just theoretically gay in a tokenizing kind of way; he has a boyfriend who is an actual character with a storyline of his own, and we get to see them in scenes together. I love this show and can't wait to see what happens next.

Over to @bengiyo to add on a manga report.

[vxnillsstuff]

Just saw your prismo headcount and LOVED THEM!!! Could you maybe do a little fic or headcanons (I don't mind) with a gen!neutral reader that can turn 2D? So they can interact with Prismo 'n stuff? Idk I think it just sounds cute :>

"In all your forms..." - Prismo (Fionna and Cake) X GN!Reader

NOTE: Thank you for the request and compliment! Question (for anyone who reads the notes... Would you guys like if I streamed on Twitch while I write or have a Discord server? I know some people enjoy that kind of community. LMK! Also, sorry if this writing is a little weird, i'm working on my PC.

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You. You are an intern for the not-so-magical wishmaster, Prismo. You had been an intern for about... 50 years now actually! You wouldn't say you were extremely thrilled with being his intern, but hey; At least you weren't floating in the middle of the universe, slowly disintegrating.

You could go on and on about all the things that made you upset about him. His stubble, his messiness, his handsome face-

ANYWAYS! Ever since you got the job as "wishmaker intern", you've had the weird power to become 2D. Not the most favorable thing in the world but it made your job a little easier when it came to working with Prismo.

You were sitting in the time room politely while Prismo clicks through all the channels like he always does. "When will I ever get to use the remote?" You ask, crossing your arms.

"Maybe in a couple hundred years." Prismo says, a smug look on his face. You roll your eyes and scoot closer to him to see what he's doing. "You know... You're kind of a prick." You say, looking away from him.

He scoffs. "You could be floating around space right now, you know that, right?"

"Yeah yeah..." You say, glancing down at his thumbs as they flip through the channels. "Do you always have to be... I dunno... 2D?"

"What?" Prismo responds, slightly glancing in your direction,

"Can you be like... 3D?" You respond, feeling the tension growing in the air.

"Yeah but I don't like it..."

"Oh..."

You two sit in uncomfortable silence.

"Do you.. like me? Like... A coworker." He blurts, breaking the silence and putting the remote down.

"Wha- I mean, I guess." You say, looking over at Prismo.

He makes eye contact with you, making you tense up a bit.

"Then why do you always have an attitude?" He said, furrowing his eyebrows. You are silent.

"Exactly."

You didn't know why you were always so rude to him. Maybe it is a defense to your underlying feelings. You shiver at the thought of these feelings and it almost makes you feel sick.

"I can see right through you..." He says gently, his eyes piercing through you.

"Wha-"

He chuckles as if he isn't feeling anything. "You want to hate me, but you can't." He says.

What do you say to that? It's true. You feel cornered.

"Prismo.." You shutter out. He just... Laughs.

"You like like me!" He says, still laughing.

"Prismo stop- This is mean." You say, a blush spreading across your face.

"When did I say i didn't like you too?"

The words falling out of his mouth making you feel stunned. Is it a trick? A joke? You couldn't tell. Your heart felt naked and exposed with all of this emotion. You want to cry but, you wouldn't. At least, you wouldn't let him see you do so.

"I like you." Prismo says. He isn't joking. He isn't joking or tricking you. It is pure emotion.

There is a gentle silence.

"I like you too... I think i'd always like you... No matter the universe. I'd like you in all your forms." You say, feeling all the emotion that has been pent up within your heart release. Tears roll down your face but, you quickly try to wipe them up.

He smiles and helps wipe your tears. Being 2D made things easier, that's for sure.

"50 years..." He says, giggling.

You giggle with him, holding your hands together.

With him, time is forever. Time is now. There is no expectation other than one; that he will be there forever. A crush so childlike. So pure and undiluted. Just liking each other. Liking the presence of another.

"So... What now?" You say.

TO BE CONTINUED (IF WANTED)....

-------------------------

[yeonjunszn]

ASAP! — TWENTY

PAIRING! mark lee x f!reader

SUMMARY! you’re not exactly the best barista at zhong coffee, but for some unknown reason (his massive crush on you), mark thinks you can do no wrong. sick and tired of his favoritism and your lack thereof due to absolute obliviousness, your coworkers are determined to fix this problem. asap.

MORE! 🙀🙀🙀 LEE JENO WTF IS WRONG WITH U (i’m sorry for making u a bad person my sugarplum i love u but ur a milf lover so it worked for plot’s sake)

◠‿◠ ‿◠ ‿◠ ‿◠ ‿◠

As if your day couldn't get any worse, just earlier you were taunted by Jeno in front of multiple customers (Mommy of the Month and her little posse of soccer moms) for not knowing how to steam milk properly. Leave it to Mr. I Love Milfs to make you feel small in front of, well, said Milfs.

And now, as you huff in front of an older male customer, he yells at you for not knowing the difference between a Wet Cap and a Dry Cap. Was there even a difference? You don’t even drink cappuccinos.

"You know, that's what I hate about young ladies like you, taking job opportunities away from men like me. You're so stupid, you can't tell the difference between these two cappuccinos? They're different in weight and taste. Are you tasteless? Blind? Maybe both? How do you even work in a coffee shop?"

As the man goes on criticizing you, you can't help but feel the tears well up in your eyes and start dripping down your face. Yet another problem over the stupid milk. Drip, drip, drip. It takes only a few tears to fall down your face for the customer to start getting angrier.

"Oh, look. The idiot girl is crying. Get me your manager, I need to talk to him about lousy, useless girls like you."

Renjun, who just happened to hear the last part of the customer's sentence, whips out his phone under the bar to text Mark. He knows he can't deal with this customer alone, not when you're damn near shivering like you went for a swim in the middle of December.

It’s not long before Renjun steps into your way as Mark grabs your hand, pulling you away from the customer. He laces your fingers together as he guides you towards his office, making sure it's empty as he sits you down in a chair.

"Are you okay?" Mark asks, eyes filled with concern and heart aching for you.

You shake your head at him, not wanting to speak out of fear that your voice will quiver much like your body is right now.

"Y/N... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have had you switch your usual shifts," Mark comments. He kneels down before you, thumb brushing across your puffy cheeks to stop your tears. "I would have never done it if I had known you were going to be treated like this. I know you’re used to the usual mid shift customers."

Mark’s other hand pats the top of your head comfortingly as you sniffle, finally speaking, "No, I... I promised you I would help. I just didn't know Jeno was so mean sometimes. And that old guys were capable of yelling at me like that."

"I'm so sorry, Y/N. I'll talk to Jeno and I'll switch you back to your mids with Jaemin and Yangyang," Mark sighs. He looks for any hint of upset in your eyes, but instead he gets a faraway look. Like there's something not quite there. "Do you want a hug to make you feel better?"

You nod your head slowly and Mark stands up, pulling you into his chest. His arms wrap around your waist as he begins to rock the two of you back and forth, swaying and humming to an imaginary tune.

After a while, you pull away and look up at Mark with a pout and hopeful eyes, "Mark?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think I'm a bad barista?" you ask.

"Well, I think you weren't as good as the other baristas before, but you are getting better," he replies, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. If his hand had lingered for any longer, he would have been able to feel the heat pooling in your cheeks.

"Okay... Um, do you think I'm stupid?"

"No. It's practically impossible to tell those two cappuccinos apart unless you’ve been a barista for a really long time. That guy was just an asshole. If he ever comes back here, I'll beat his ass to a pulp," Mark answers you truthfully. He speaks clearly; he wants you to think highly of yourself and not listen to the words of some arrogant customer. A part of you believes him, taking his words to heart.

"One more thing..." you mutter, pushing yourself back into his chest and hiding your face.

"Mm?"

"Can I... can I have your chocolate croissant?" you ask, hesitation in your voice.

Mark bursts out into laughter at your silly question, his entire body vibrating as he holds you tight. "Is that it?"

"Yeah."

"Of course, Y/N. You can have whatever you want," Mark says. "Are you feeling a bit better now?"

"Yes. Thank you," you murmur, looking at his face — more specifically, his eyebrows. Something in you makes you a tiny bit shy, not able to look into his eyes as he smiles at you.

"Any time."

There's a racing in your chest, where your heart is, one that's never really been there before. Whatever it is, you hope that it will calm itself. Quickly.

TWENTY — chocolate croissant

PREV! nineteen — i will force his hand into a blender

NEXT! twenty one — #xiaojun_out

MASTERLIST!

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TAGLIST! @stardusthyuck @erin-calling @tddyhyck @bigheadchen @choiwonder @neozon3nha @sunflowerbebe07 @kissesfrmwonwoo @miyawwn @sserafimez @haechansbbg @lilyidk03 @mowchiie @jaemsrina @jeongintwt @shwizhies

[bellysoupset]

Okay, so, two things:

One, does Leo ever get jealous or upset when he sees kids with loving and caring parents?

Two, maybe a fic where Leo hasn’t been feeling well all day and on his way home he sees a super sweet family with a dad and a cute giggly son, and for some reason his feverish brain combined with the sweetness sends him into a depression episode. And then he goes home and takes Benadryl for his fever and his anti depressants as well, and basically over-sedates himself, and Jon gets home later to find Leo almost completely out of it and he freaks out.

I know you’re doing the mini saga rn, but I was thinking maybe you could do this after?

Sorry if this request is too long!!!😭😭!!😭

I'm sorry it took forever to write this!! This poor fic has been in my drafts for too long, I'm so sorry!

----------------

Leo knew he was not supposed to covet things that weren't his. That had been a maxim of his father and during most days Leo still agreed to it, all trauma aside.

Except during the holidays. He wasn't sure what was it about the end of the year that brought up the ugliest parts of him. Maybe it was all the fake glee or the longer nights and shorter days or the fact he wasn't practicing nearly as much sports or the fact that consumerism was off the charts and even though he could afford things now, he didn't think he'd ever get rid of that feeling in the pit of his stomach when standing in a cashier line. Maybe it was all that put together.

Or maybe it was the drilling about Holiday Spirit. In his house that had meant discounted alcoholic eggnog and much screaming, his father calling him a "little elf", school being out for recess so him being stuck in a house with no heat and an incredibly pissed off man, who was drunk off his ass.

For everyone else, though, holiday spirit meant being more kind or loving or charitable. Right. Leo rolled his eyes as he watched his coworker boast about the charity he was helping at the end of the year.

There was also the fact that the "philanthropy works" that his colleagues liked to gloated about were more often than not directed at people who were just Leo, except seven years ago.

He pressed on his keyboard with a little more force, rubbing at his temples. He had a headache from all the smells permeating the office — Sandras' peppermint candle, Chuck's cinnamon rolls he had brought for everyone else, Dean's fucking overpowering cologne his girlfriend had gifted him — and the loud noise wasn't making his life any better.

Leo sighed, squinting at his screen. Normally he could do his job in his sleep. Research had always been his forte, even back in high school, and he knew he aced it, because his boss always planted him as the paralegal for the big clients, where the lawyer would need a lot of research help in a short period of time.

Today he was struggling to put two and two together, let alone figure out if there were any similar cases that could serve as their defense. His stomach grumbled and Leo decided he needed a break from Sandra and Dean's incessant bickering, getting up and going to the coffee machine.

"Hey Wagner," Chuck opened a little smile, "what's with the sour face?"

"Headache," Leo answered truthfully, grabbing the biggest paper cup and starting the coffee machine. Damn, he really needed one of these back at home, "it's fine, there's just forty minutes more."

"That sucks man, feel better," Chuck said, but didn't move, "do you have any plans for the holiday break?"

"That's only next month," Leo wrinkled his nose in distaste. Could people stop pre-gaming for December in the middle of fucking November? Halloween had just happened-

"Well, there's thanksgiving," Chuck shrugged, "in less than two weeks."

"Oh," Leo sighed, having completely forgotten thanksgiving. He didn't think he had ever celebrated that.

"Are you going back home?"

Ha!

Leo nearly snorted in his coffee cup, instead changing it halfway so it looked like he was just blowing off the steam, "no, there's n- No. It's just me and Jon, so I'll probably do whatever his plans are."

Which Leo didn't think he had any... Jonah's plans lately were solely eat, sleep, study, hand in his final works for graduation, work. Rinse repeat.

"Hope you guys have fun," Chuck smiled brightly, before side stepping him and walking back to his desk, "get a turkey or something."

"Or something," Leo grumbled, squeezing his eyes and shuddering violently. He was also freezing. He blamed that on Sandra, who just had to wear the fancy coat she got in the designer sale at Nordstrom, so the a/c was at stupidly low levels, for sure.

Even though he had said it was just forty minutes more, they dragged. By the time Leo managed to get out of the office, his headache had escalated significantly and his stomach was hurting, since all he had eaten all day was a pastry at lunch and copious amounts of coffee. He was freezing to the point of his teeth chattering and he it was only when he stepped out of the elevator, buttoning up his coat, that he realized most people didn't seem to be feeling that chilly.

Sandra poked his side, "Wagner, you mind?"

He had stopped right at the ID scan, so he quickly apologized, jumping to the side as she scanned her card and then looked over her shoulder at him, "are you alright?"

"What?" Leo squinted at her, the lights reflecting off her blonde hair.

"Are you feeling alright?" Sandra repeated, "you're quieter than usual, that's all."

"Yeah, uhm..." He shrugged, running his own ID over the scan and joining her as they walked to the parking lot, "I'm fine, I'm just freez-" he shut up, stunned into silence when his co-worker lightly touched his forehead, getting on her tiptoes to reach him.

"You're running a fever there, Wagner," she rolled her eyes, clicking her car keys, "are you alright to drive?"

"Yeah, of course!" His voice came out squeaky at the sudden display of care and Sandra shrugged, smiling at him.

"Alright, take care," she waved, moving away to her designated spot and Leo was left a little stunned into silence, before collecting himself and getting in his own car. He really needed to stop being stubborn and let Bella fix his radio like she had offered, because there was just a terrible silence the entire drive home.

Leo stopped at a red light, just a street away from home and rested his forehead on the steering wheel. Now that Sandra had pointed it out, he couldn't deny the fever. Everything hurt, the sound of the wind howling outside hurt, his head was pounding, the kid's squealing as they walked ahead of their parents on the street...

He watched as a little boy ran back to his father, in a ridiculously large coat. The kid barely reached his dad's hip, he couldn't be over four years old. He was blabbing, cheeks all red and Leo watched the dad let out a chuckle and grab the lapels of his son's coat, covering his face in kisses.

Someone honked behind him and Leo jumped, startled. He had missed the green light.

The remaining 5 minutes to his house, were dark five minutes. Not only because the clouds clumped together to start spilling snow, but because his thoughts started to run down a dangerous road.

This was what he hated the most about the holidays. How his dark thoughts creeped up on him with such ease, how much emphasis was there on family and love and how it highlighted that he was painfully alone in this world. There was no place to go for thanksgiving and there was no father to smooch his face and comfort him and none of the garbage that every single TV ad was showing now.

He avoided the first floor, not in the mood to force a smile for Matthew, and once he got home, Leo went straight to the bedroom, stripping out of his tux jacket and kicking off the shoes.

JD meowed, pushing the door ajar as she entered the room, climbing the bed and forcing herself on his lap even when he paid her no mind. He was too busy trying to undo his tie with one hand, the other one running through the mess of meds they kept in the bedside table drawer.

Vaguely Leo was aware that Jonah kept more meds in the first aid kit, but he couldn't remember where it was and his head was throbbing too much and he felt like fucking crying, so he decided not to go looking. They were out of paracetamol, but still had benadryl and Leo swallowed the little pink pill dry, before opening the drawer right under that one, where he kept his own stuff.

He always took his meds in the morning and then two before bed, but even thought it was only six PM, Leo decided to just taken them already. He wanted to sleep for fifty years, maybe sleep and just... Just stop existing all together.

Leo rubbed his face at the thought, letting out a groan, and his cat let out a meow, forcing her head in the space between his arms.

"Hey," he sighed, scratching her behind the ears, "hey, sweetheart, it's okay. I'm fine. I'm not doing that..." he reassured JD, pulling on the blankets so he could crawl under them. Jonah had left the heater on, but the apartment was still freezing.

JD meowed, chewing on his now undone tie and Leo wrapped an arm around her, thinking that maybe he should get out of the office clothes.... Then fell asleep.

---------------

Jonah wasn't a festivities type of man. He had never been, not even back when he was a teenager and he definitely wasn't the type now, when he was so stressed about graduation.

Yet, he knew Leo was acting pouty for the past ten days and his bet was that it was related to the holiday season. It was very unlike Leo to not openly complain about what was upsetting him, unless it was something close to his heart, when he closed off like a clam.

So if Leo wanted Holidays, Jonah was going to give him Holidays. Hopefully with a better outcome than Halloween, Jon cringed at the thought.

"What is this?" Jon asked, as Wendy reached inside her car and pushed a big tupperware in his hand.

"Torrone," she said, fishing one of the little white squares, "it's an Italian candy, traditional around Christmas. Vin's mom sells them, but she made a huge first batch and sent him. Here's some for you and Leo."

"But Ma made them for Vince..."

"Vince has half my fridge filled with these," Wendy rolled her eyes, getting in the driver's seat of her car, "just remember to get a picture of Leo eating it so we can send it to ma."

"Alright Dee, bye," Jon sniffed one the little white bars, before turning around to get in his own car. That had been the start of his Christmas mini spree and the reason why he was going up to their apartment now carrying not just the tupperware, but a bunch of little boxes of fairy lights, a wreath and a bag of groceries to make a black forest cake.

Jon wasn't daft, he knew Leo was being terribly considerate with the fact he had all but put their whole relationship in the backburner so he could focus in the school work. He needed to woo the guy a little bit.

"Leo?" Jonah pushed the door open, before crouching down to grab all the items again, "Leo, I got a bunch of shit I think you'll like..." he thought nothing of it when there wasn't an answer, instead starting to put things away. He found a good jar for Ma's little torrones and checked on JD's food bowl, frowning as he realized Leo hadn't fed her yet.

"Leo, did you feed JD? Her bowl is empty..." he said, but still got no answer. Jonah didn't wait for one, shaking the little empty dish until he heard their cat trotting back to the kitchen, then filling it up. She snaked between his legs, purring as Jon scratched her behind the ear and watched her eat for a little bit.

Only then did he frown at Leo's full absence, walking back to their room. Jonah wasn't sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn't his boyfriend buried under all their blankets, heavily asleep. He checked his watch. Eight o'clock.

"That's early," Jonah whispered, moving closer to get a good look at his face, "Leo?"

There was no answer, not a snore, nothing. Leo's blonde hair was peaking out and so was the top half of his face, but that was it.

Jon sighed, a little bummed he was already asleep, but deciding against waking him, tiptoeing back out of the room. JD was still in the kitchen, happily munching on her treat and Jonah crouched down next to her again, "why did Leo go to bed so early, do you know?" he asked, causing the cat to stop eating for a second, before she went back in.

He put away all the groceries, then went through the fridge. They meal prepped and Jonah frowned as he realized there were exactly as many frozen dishes as there had been when he left the house earlier that day.

Happy that he had found an excuse to wake Leo up, Jonah got two containers out and put them to defrost, while walking back to the room. Leo hadn't moved a muscle and he didn't stir even when Jon sat on his side of the bed, brushing his bangs.

"Leo..." he whispered, shaking him lightly, "baby wak-" Jonah interrupted himself, noticing Leo was still wearing his office clothes. That was very unusual... So was the low heat rolling off of him.

"Goddammit Leo," Jon sighed, touching his face and feeling the low grade fever. He shook him a little harder, "Leo, wake up. You gotta eat something..."

Still nothing. By now, normally, the blonde would be blinking awake.

Jonah frowned, pushing the blankets down and shaking him a little more, "Leo, wake up..." his voice raised at the end as alarm bells started to go through his mind, so he all but rattled the other man, finally causing Leo to open his eyes.

Jon was about to let out a relieved sigh, but he didn't have the chance, as Leo slurred something unintelligible and then passed right back asleep.

Jonah rattled him again, harshly, and this time he got no reaction, not even a whine.

"Leo!" he called, leaning in so he could feel his boyfriend's breathing, planting two fingers to his jugular in search of a pulse. His own heart was drumming in his ears, so it took Jonah a second before he could differentiate what was his, what was Leo's.

The blonde's heartbeat were slow...Too slow. His breathing was weirdly timed.

Jonah felt vaguely dizzy as he looked around the room, in search of his coat. He had left his cellphone inside the pocket... He almost got sick as he saw the three different medications sitting on Leo's bedside table.

His usual Zoloft and Ambien and... Benadryl?

Jon frowned at the label, before shaking the antidepressant case and ambien. Both were still full, Leo hadn't taken more than he should... Or at least, it didn't look like he had, not on purpose.

"Baby," Jonah patted his cheeks, with more force than he'd normally use, "baby, open your eyes for me. Wake up-" he bit the inside of his cheek, before deciding that fuck that and splashing a little bit of water on his boyfriend's face.

Leo blinked, confused and drowsy, "why am I wet..." he groaned, attempting to go back to sleep, but Jonah stopped him, patting his cheek again.

"Leo, hey, look at me- How many pills did you take?"

"Uhm?" he yawned, his eyes starting to roll back again.

"LEO!" Jonah shook him vehemently, forcing the blonde to wake up, "how. many. pills?"

Leo groaned, rubbing his eyes, "Jon...?"

"Yes, baby, it's me," Jonah shook him again, holding the pill bottles in front of his face, "how many pills?"

"One," Leo slumped back against the pillow, "just one."

"Each?"

The blonde nodded, yawning again, "I don't feel so good..."

"I know, baby," Jon grabbed his shoulders again, forcing him to sit up once more, "c'mon, we're going to the ER."

"What...?" Leo groaned, slumping forward so his forehead met Jon's shoulder, "no, I'm not sick, I'm just... I'm just off..."

"Yeah, because you took two sedatives and your antidepressants," Jonah scoffed, looking one of Leo's arms around his neck, "c'mon, baby, get up."

"Jon, no, stop-" Leo weakly tried to shove off his chest, but his legs were almost jelly under him and the only thing keeping him up was Jonah holding him tightly, "I wanna sleep..."

"Nope," Jon dragged him out of the room, "no sleep for you until a psychiatrist checks you out."

"No!" Leo shoved at his arm and then stumbled back, falling sit on the edge of the bed. Jonah glared at him, feeling his own temper flare up, fueled by the sheer stress.

The stress of the situation, the panic of finding Leo like that, but also the overall stress that had been Halloween, followed by Leo's appendicitis, followed his quickly approaching deadlines...

"You're getting in the car even if I have to fucking carry you, Leo," Jonah glared at him, "get up."

If he expected to get a rise out of the blonde, he didn't. Instead Leo planted a hand on his chest and fell back on the bed, facing the ceiling as he groaned, "Jon, I feel really weird..."

"Yes, get up-"

"No, there's... There's someone standing in our hallway," Leo said and Jonah glanced at the open door and saw nothing, not even JD.

"There isn't, baby, its in your head..." he grabbed his boyfriend's arm, pulling him up again, "c'mon-"

"No, they're gonna get me."

"Ah fuck's sake," Jonah sighed, although while this was scary, he much rather have Leo fighting him and responsive than dead to the world, "no one is going to get you, Leo..."

All he got as an answer was a whimper.

"Fuck," Jon whispered, leaving the room in two steps to grab the coat he had hung behind the door and his phone, already dialing 911.

They asked him how many pills Leo had taken and upon Jonah's answer, a lady said "It doesn't sound like a suicide attempt, we're going to transfer you to poison control. Please stay on the line and stay calm."

A suicide attempt. Jonah's mouth dried as he sat right next to Leo on the bed, wrapping a hand around his wrist and feeling his pulse, barely listening as the poison control responder said that at this dosage going to the ER wasn't necessary. To keep checking on him and get loads of liquids on Leo, take him to emergency if he started throwing up or struggling to breathe.

Jon's ears were still ringing as he crouched down next to Leo again, now holding a glass of cold water, with a straw sticking out.

"C'mon, baby, just one sip, it's gonna help..."

Leo groaned again, but after a little more prodding, he did open his mouth and took the drink. Apparently he had been thirsty, because he drained the entire cup without much of Jonah's prodding.

He pulled back, looking slightly more awake, "Jon..." Leo clumsily grabbed his face, "something's wrong."

"I know, Leo," Jonah pulled back from the clumsy face squeeze, planting a kiss on the blonde's brow, "you'll feel better in the morning... Well, probably hungover as fuck, but you'll feel better in the morning..." his voice caught at the end and Leo pulled back, frowning.

"Are you sad...?"

"No, I'm fine, I'm fine," Jonah cleared his throat, "why did you take the benadryl?"

"What?" Leo blinked, struggling to keep his eyes open, "get into bed..."

"The third medication, Leo," Jonah raised the little box in front of his eyes, "why did you take it?"

"My head hurt..." Leo yawned, "had a fever... Couldn't find the right-" he yawned again, tugging on Jon's shirt to pull him closer, "the right one."

Jonah let out a little sigh of relief, allowing himself to get pulled into a clumsy, weird hug, the best that Leo's half sedated brain could do.

"I love you," he whispered, voice muffled by Leo's shirt and the blonde let out a hum, sounding like he was falling right back asleep. Still, Jonah did hear a faint, "love you too" said in return.

[silverynight]

The roommate

<---Previous

Part XVI

"Have you heard?" A girl who's working on pro hero Jet-Black's suit says to her friends, not even bothering to keep it quiet: "Someone made a thread about the missing people on Twitter and they said they have found one of them but they're... dead."

Izuku pales, he sits back on his seat, wondering if that's true and how their partner must be feeling at the moment. If what she's saying is true, it'd make so much sense for Shoto and Katsuki to be acting like that.

So the villain is not only interested in kidnapping, they want to kill their victims.

But why? Is this some type of revenge against the hero community, against the system? Or they just want to cause chaos to get the pro heroes distracted?

"Midoriya!"

Izuku snaps out of it when one of his coworkers touches his shoulder gently, he gasps like he needs air and realizes that everyone is looking at him with concern.

"I'm sorry," the girl apologizes, although he doesn't understand why. "I... forgot. Sometimes I forget you're dating them."

"It's fine." He assures her, making a dismissive gesture with his hand and trying to pretend he's focusing on his work instead. "I'm fine. I hope they find the others safe and sound soon."

Then there comes the silence; the uncomfortable silence Izuku has learned to dislike... it makes him feel bad and a little bit nervous.

Part of him wants his two boyfriends to stop treating him like he's made of glass and another part of him is scared and concerned.

What's going on? Why would anyone do something like that?

He knows he shouldn't trust a thread on Twitter, but when his boyfriends come to look for him, he has the feeling that everything is true.

It's written all over their faces.

"I want to spend time with you two," he says suddenly, prompting them to look back with confusion; he doesn't blame them. "Outside our apartment. Let's go out for a while."

"Izuku..."

"Please, Kacchan. Only for a couple of minutes."

They have another silent conversation before they both nod; Izuku doesn't know how to feel about that yet, he understands they must keep a couple of things from him, especially about an investigation as important as that one, but at the same time he feels left out from certain parts of their relationship. It's like they don't completely trust him anymore.

They take him to the top of their favorite building; the sky is beautiful and for a moment it's all that matters. It's like nothing is wrong.

But it lasts only a couple of seconds.

Izuku sits in the middle of them and takes a deep breath before looking from one to another and giving them a kiss.

"Is it true you found one of the missing people? Are they dead?"

Shoto stares at him in shock and worry while Katsuki curses under his breath, although Izuku can perfectly hear him.

"Where did you–"

"A coworker read a thread on Twitter."

"Those fuckers! Who's leaking information?"

"So it's true..." Izuku sighs; he would've liked to hear it from them first. "So is the villain killing them?"

"We shouldn't–"

Izuku cuts Shoto off with a hand gesture. Honestly, he's getting tired of being kept in the complete dark. It's hurting him.

"How do you expect me to take precautions if you don't tell me anything?" He takes a deep breath, trying not to tear up. Maybe he's overreacting, but he doesn't feel that good that night. "I would never post any confidential information if that's what you think. I know how to keep a secret."

Finally realizing how upset he is, Katsuki leans to stroke Izuku's cheek, but he moves away.

"Listen... I understand that you cannot tell me everything. You're probably working on another cases that I know nothing about and that's fine, but I feel like this time I deserve to know a bit since I could be their next target–"

"Shut up," Katsuki almost growls, looking suddenly distressed; Izuku wonders if he was the one who found the body.

"We just want to protect you."

"From the truth?" Izuku pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling suddenly exhausted. Maybe this was all a mistake, perhaps he's not suited to be in a relationship with any pro hero, let alone two. "Listen, I know you both have a day off tomorrow, so we can talk about this then."

"We won't be taking days off anytime soon," Katsuki grumbles then, looking away from Izuku. "We need to find this fucker as soon as possible."

"And you didn't think about mentioning this to me?" He should stop talking otherwise he's going to have a breakdown in front of them.

"We discussed it–"

"But not with me!" Izuku gets up and notices how both of them almost jump because they're afraid he might fall. He rolls his eyes. "I feel like you haven't had a proper conversation with me in weeks! Relationships are not just about physical intimacy! We need to talk! Talk to me!"

They look at each other then, having yet another silent conversation he's not allowed to be part of. Izuku's lip trembles, but he stops himself from sobbing. He's never felt so left out before. Is he being unreasonable? He can see how tired and concerned they are.

"Izuku, this case has been particularly difficult for both of us. But as soon as this is over–"

Does it mean that every time they have a case like that and they fear for his life they'll stop talking to him? Izuku is not sure he wants something like that in their relationship.

"It's okay. We'll talk when you two have time."

Katsuki has to go to work so he tries to kiss Izuku goodbye, but the green haired man is too overwhelmed by his own feelings to do that he moves out of the way again.

When Shoto and he are back home, the pro hero offers to make dinner for him, but Izuku is not actually hungry.

"It's fine... I'll take the other room tonight," Izuku mumbles, before closing the door after getting inside. Shoto must know how upset he is because he doesn't even protest.

Is he being fair? Is it okay to worry about something so trivial as lack of communication when someone just died?

Izuku buries himself under his favorite blankets and lets a couple of tears escape from his eyes before falling asleep.

***

When he opens his eyes, he realizes he didn't actually rest at all and somehow hearing Katsuki and Shoto whispering outside doesn't do him any favors.

"I made breakfast," Shoto mumbles almost shyly as he follows Izuku as soon as he steps outside the other bedroom.

"Thanks, but I'm not hungry. I'll just take a shower," Izuku says, he doesn't even have the energy to pretend to be happy.

Over Shoto's shoulder, he notices Katsuki standing, looking like at him with the closest to a kicked puppy expression he can make. Izuku also notices the scratches all over his shoulders and has the temptation to ask how his shift went.

He must be exhausted.

"Come on, sit on the couch," he sighs.

Katsuki nods, perhaps sensing that arguing with Izuku won't do any good at the moment. He sits quietly and lets Izuku patch him up.

Without a word he finishes quickly, takes a shower and changes his clothes. He finds the pro heroes waiting outside of the room again.

"I'm sorry, Izuku." Both his boyfriends says at the same time.

"We need to have a serious conversation. The three of us. Because I feel like I deserve to know a little bit about what's going on."

Katsuki presses his lips together and Izuku knows, just by his expression that he still refuses to say a word about the case. When he turns around, he notices that Shoto is shaking his head.

Maybe Izuku is in the wrong. Perhaps he not only wasn't born to be a hero, he also wasn't born to date one... or two.

He shouldn't be thinking about that; he spent a couple of years with his therapist trying to understand and change those negative feelings.

They're coming back.

"You should rest, Kacchan."

"I'll take Izuku to work."

"No, it's fine," the green haired man says, almost rolling his eyes when he notices Katsuki taking a few steps closer, ready to argue with him. "I called Kirishima. He's going to take me to work today."

Like he's been summoned, someone knocks at the door and when he sees Kirishima with a sincere smile on his face, Izuku feels a lot better.

He's a very good friend, he really hopes Shoto and Katsuki appreciate him.

"Izuku, there's no need–"

"I'll be fine. You two should rest."

It's too much for them; clearly taking care of him and worrying about the case is slowly draining them.

Part of him thinks it'd be better to break up with them; they can be friends and that way they can only worry about the case and the people who are still in danger.

***

Next--->

Patreon

[theendlessrambles]

9/28/24

I haven't written here in awhile. I only seem to do so when I have a lot of my mind. I swear I'm not always this negative I just seem to save it all for in my writing. Life has gotten better I'm just in another rut before a new change. I have stopped smoking, started college, and am in a healthier relationship. My roommate and I also get along much better now. College, work, and truama therapy at the same time has proven a struggle and I've been showing up to work late. I now have to go in Monday through Friday from 10am to 6pm. I did try and find a diffrent position, but due to my warnings they won't let me. I'm hoping this helps with my schedule as I am burnig out. I also have FMLA time to help with my C-PTSD episodes. I'm thankful that I have union otherwise I may have just been fired instead. It may have not been smart, but I am not being discrete about being burnt out to my fellow coworkers and that I'm struggling. I'd rather be honest that college and a full time job are having negative effects on me than leaving it to the imagination. Work is also stressful with my boss/family friend leaving. She leaves the first week of October. The bullying in the department has finally stressed her enough to leave. They don't just bully her, but everyone. There's only a few people there who are able to handle stress and regulate their feelings well enough to save face during their shift. Lots of other techs have left as well. The change is something I view as negative it's a lot at once. The second in command in the company will be over seeing our department. I worry if she will like me and if she will be present enough in our department. We have a mandatory meeting with her on Tuesday to go over the changes. Truthfully I want to run away from the position, but it seems I am stuck there for awhile. Maybe this is a good thing.

I also have been stressed with some billboards lately. On them is the face of my molesters lawyer running for judge. The people who know him and me have said they don't think he will get it as the other lawyers laugh behind his back. This is true, but does the general public know that? At first it didn't bother me,but as November draws closer it has me on edge. I need to speak to my therapist about this soon as it has just started to truly sink in that he has a chance to become a judge. I know this doesn't affect me in the bigger picture, but it still upsets me. Rightfully so. With the change of schedule in my job I will likely have to get a new truama therapist that fits my new schedule. I cried for an hour on the way home from work over this fact amd then saw the billboard with the lawyers face on it. Maybe I should change my route home when I'm so emotionally upset.

I wanted to smoke a cigarette on my way home after all of that, but instead got panda express. This whole not smoking thing has made me very fat as I've been buying fast food more often. Even when I'm bot upset it's easier than making dinner. I seem to not have a lot of time. Hoping the new schedule helps with that. I haven't been walking my dog. I can tell this is effecting both of us. A few months ago a homeless man tried to attack us and she scared him off. I was able to go back on the trails with another person and eventually on my own again. Same with my dig as she would get nervous around that spot to. A few weeks ago there was a stabbing in that spot. I haven't taken walks since then. I'm hoping my boyfriend will walk with me and my dog there soon as I build back my confidence to go back there.

Speaking of the boyfriend things have been going well. We have dates amd see each other often, but not in a burdensome way. He's very romantic and we do arts and crafts together. We have been off and on again with our friendship since our middle school days because we struggled with admitting our romantic attraction to each other. It took us a decade to do so, but it's nice to have finally done so. His family likes me and my family likes him. He's the type of man I can see marrying not because of society's standards but because I want to. The only struggle is being physical. I have never seen him naked, but he has seen me nudes. Whenever things are sexual i am always receiving but never giving. He has truama and other issues, but won't go in depth with me. It's hard.on a selfish level I wonder if he doesn't reciprocate my feelings and if he's gay, but I know this isn't true. He's bi at the very least and his body language has shown physically intrest. However it is something I worry about deeply. I hope this is something we can get through together or something he can handle on his own. I want to be able to have a deeper relationship with him. On a lighter note we are going to a halloween party as Mario and Princess Peach.

College is going well and I have good grades. It is all online and suits my lifestyle well. I don't think I would do this well if I was in person. NY struggle is turning things in on time and APA formating. APA formating seems the biggest mountain I have to climb as it is what I get marked down for the most. I have a mentor through a program I signed up for. Hopefully this will help with my struggles.

[meanwhileinstasiville]

Today's theme is "you can't get upset about it"

And therefore coopers *everywhere* value added with yellow clad people. The top down soundtrack on wheels blared in all seasons? With a cooper. At the upper part of the park? A guy milling around with ponytail similar to "was at waco!" guy from a local dollar store.

(After someone sought me out with their car, then flipped me off while getting on the interstate; this is foregone foregone conclusion)

Consider this. Some time ago, I had mentioned that there was "really good pitch shift wheel usage" in a chip tune track some japanese person had used synth to replicate guitar tapping solos and such. At a library terminal I was sitting at. Then I walked to a neighboring park. You *would never guess* what was sitting on a bear proof garbage disposal next to a creek *and* in the original box; a casio synthesizer keyboard that I used to have when I was in elementary school. Same exact model. So and, commentary like youtube comments produced that. And no, there's no pitch shift on those but that wasn't the point of that instrument back then. And it was keyboard *2*

So I have to consider the possibilities between say, local drug kingpin hoped to interfere with developmental experiences of a kid living out on sixty six. Versus my friend's dad doesn't think I'm worth anything and also, paradoxically, that *my* dad is a state actor at place and time back then. So I had no need to remember the make and model of that casio, because someone was waiting to confront me with it over a social media comment. And that instrument is *from the 1980s*.

And the comment stands, because *they added those wheels later* after people were modulating affecting a glissando (midi doesn't handle it well for technical reasons) because tracking notes that can't have the same time signature nonetheless *representing a chord*, was essentially a demand. Soaring arpeggios aren't good enough and that was the limit of the technology by design back then. And that's neither here nor there. One of the two men is the answer to a keyboard appears on a garbage can within ten or fifteen minutes of a comment.

"What will you do when you can't express anger or people in uniforms will show up and shoot you?"

Well, today it draws back to grandpa who was Irish and said "laughter is a sign of weakness" and a cue to slap his kids around (which he did) including my mom. And I'm a xerox of him. So what did I do? Laugh all the time; he's not going to punch *himself* as a child, in the face.

So I file it under the jeep that I "paid too much for", and that "push the clutch in when you brake" as the goateed and latino built guy selling it to me had said when I got it. It got broken into. It got screwed with. The thing was a franken-jeep from a Dutch family of jeep fanatics. And I was in it for the experience; because I couldn't trust anymore than that. Can't take it to "Oh I'll stop" because someone would think it would be funny when it didn't work afterward. To my cousin who swore I paid too much, while telling me things "won't work out the way you think they will" while hitching a ride in it *past my boss's house incidentally*; it had like 1500 bucks in tires on it.

I couldn't take it to les schwab because another guy almost died when they didn't lug his tire. He's going around a corner, and the tire is gone, and he finds himself looking at the sky in the middle of a busy intersection. Maybe he was getting "too cushy" with so-called golden boy status with the owner. Who knows. But I can't trust them after that happened.

I couldn't take it to mclures anymore; mclures in name only for some time. I'm working with people who have access to all the tools and training of a local locksmith which ended up breaking the lock on the driver's side door. Coworkers. Gang members when I was visiting a friend a few hundred miles away. It's not the situation where you have access to these services a lot of people think nothing of soliciting. And there's sudden insecurity on demand like an assistant manager found out leaving les schwab; so it's not like stable employment where I'm going to a dealership.

Sometimes, I see other people having related experiences; a woman burdened with a name "holy", meaning divine to white people. Latinos figure it's hole-y; como hueco, like a hole. Meaning worthless in the parlance of locales. She signed up to be treated like a hole where cartels hold away and latinos are more common than they're not. And because jokes are funny or else. But and, all of them are doing better than I am social life milestone wise. She has the "John Drinkwater, water quality specialist" problem. Where would he be instead? Probably drowned because "that's funny" too.

Before any of the coopers, there were the "outlier" service vehicles so I'm worth less than pruning a fingernail by latino estimation. My capacity to be examined and amusing is all that's kept me from being killed all these years. Some attempts have been made anyway but that's a completely different story, though it involves some of the same people. Which, if you're following me around with your car based on a misperception or even because someone told you to; I would think about *examining your quality of life*

And I'm a xerox of a really bad guy so I expect the bad karma.

[fallingthruspace]

I’ve seen a few posts about the idea of Eddie and Chrissy showing up in season 3 and decided I wanted to expand/put my own spin on it.

Obviously Eddie gets a job at the music store inside Starcourt

He works most of his shifts by himself until the owner tells him that he’s hired another employee

A couple days later Eddie is in the process of carrying something out from the backroom when the owner calls him to come meet his new coworker

Much to Eddie’s surprised it is none other than Chrissy fucking Cunningham the girl he’s been nursing a huge crush on since middle school

Chrissy spends the day learning the ins and outs of the store while she and Eddie get to know each other, and at some point they have what is basically the forest conversation from 4.01

When their shift is over Eddie insists on treating her to ice cream at Scoops Ahoy to celebrate a successful first day. Chrissy tries to politely decline but Eddie insists so she agrees but only on the condition that she can treat him when she gets her first paycheck.

I have a headcanon that Eddie is already friends with Robin in this AU because I fully believe they would be hilariously chaotic besties if given the chance. He wasn’t too fond of Steve at first, but after a few weeks of hanging out at Scoops to bug them Steve and Eddie have something that could almost be called a friendship. They mostly just rag on/snark at each other, but there’s no malice behind it. (Eddie LOOOVES making fun of Steve’s uniform)

Both Robin and Steve are naturally surprised to see Eddie Munson strolling in with Chrissy Cunningham of all people, and Robin spends a good few minutes shooting looks at Eddie because she is 100% aware of his massive crush

Scoops Ahoy becomes a regular hangout for Eddie and Chrissy and that’s where they get to know “Steve’s Kids”, as Eddie refers to them because they’re also always there

Chrissy is still dating Jason who periodically comes to visit her at work and is of course a dick about her working with “the freak”, no matter how much Chrissy tries to convince him that Eddie is completely harmless

Eventually things come to a head and Chrissy breaks up with him, partially because of other things but also because he won’t stop being an asshole towards someone who she now considers a very good friend. Maybe even her best friend. Chrissy feels a little guilty that she’s not as upset about their relationship ending as she should be

Afterword her and Eddie share an ice cream sundae to “celebrate” her dumping Jason. Robin and Steve are proud of her too because they also thought Jason was a huge dick (no one likes Jason)

I feel like Chrissy and Eddie are pretty much oblivious to everything that’s going on for about 80-90% of s3. Like everyone else is dealing with the Upside Down and Russian spies and shit, meanwhile those two are about 2/3 of their way into a slow burn 200k friends to lovers fic on ao3 😂

They probably get dragged into it right after the Scoops Troop escapes from the Russians

Maybe they have the day off or something and they go to see Back to the Future when Steve and Robin plop down next to them, both obviously high off their asses and Steve looking like he just got beat within and inch of his life

They drag the two to the nearest bathroom to get Steve cleaned up and this segways into Steve and Robin’s bathroom convo

After that a lot of shit happens really fast and before Eddie and Chrissy know what’s going on they get roped into the fight against the Upside Down and now there’s a Giant Eldrich Monstrosity in the middle of the food court and they’re helping Lucas Sinclair throw fireworks at it

In the end, Eddie and Chrissy get absorbed into the Party because fighting inter-dimensional monsters has a real way of bonding people together

Steve’s Kids also become Eddie and Chrissy’s Kids, especially Dustin(of course)

Sometime during that summer, Eddie and Chrissy eventually stop beating around the bush and finally get together (much to the relief of Dustin and Robin who have been trying to get them there since before the “mall fire”)

The two naturally cause a stir at Hawkins High when The Freak and The Cheerleader show up for their senior year arm in arm and acting like a couple of lovebirds

When season 4 rolls around Chrissy does NOT get Vecna’d because she actually has a support system now, but others are not so lucky

Jason, of course, still blames Eddie for the murders because he’s a grade A dick and now has the motivation of The Freak “stealing his girl” and the gang has to clear his name while trying to destroy Vecna

Lmao my brain really ran away with this and now I want to write a whole fic for it help

[orionnotpax]

Monty

Another day, another Montgomery level mess to clean. No idea what set the gator off this time, what pissed him off so much that hes lodging golfballs in the walls with a single swing, or breaking the golf clubs in half and throwing them into the water. Because of this, the course was closed early and you were called in to fully assess the damage and clean up what you could.

Today was supposed to be your day off. But as Montys ‘Handler’, (a term you hated and were currently trying to have changed to ‘P.A’) you were technically on call in case of situations like this. Management claims they tried to handle it themselves, but Montgomery wouldn’t let anyone, or anything, in. So, they called you to come in and deal with it.

You called bullshit, but hey, hours are hours you supposed, and it wasn’t like you didn’t basically get paid to just hang out in the Pizzaplex most days anyway.

By the time you got there, Montgomery had cooled down just enough to stop throwing things, but was still stalking around the course somewhere.

Youd gone through the security tunnels and were coming in through a STAFF door when you heard the loud clanging footsteps of your animatronic coworker stomping around come to a halt before a warning growl resonated through the course.

Reflexively you shrink in on yourself before squaring your shoulders and side stepping around the door, leaning against it to push it shut before calling out to the unseen bassist. (Surprising, considering he was a 6’5” hunk of moving metal)

“And here i thought management was bullshittin me, you aren’t even gonna let me in either?”

The growl dies off and instead you hear a loud chuff. You guessed he might have gone up to the catwalks again, but even as you looked up you couldn’t really see anything in the dim lighting.

You scan the course again before walking further in. You let out a steady exhale in an attempt to calm your racing heart as you acted as casual as possible.

In truth, you were worried. Not for yourself, no, you and Monty had built a trust over your time as his assistant and you no longer feared he might lash out and harm you, you were worried for him. Management never truly cared about the damages done to Monty himself, they were more focused on the costly repairs of the golf course and opening it again as quickly as possible. The most you got about Montys wellbeing was that he was damaged, but there had been no elaboration before they demanded you come in and promptly hung up.

So to say you were a little antsy was an understatement.

You stop in the middle of the course, both surveying the damage and looking for the upset gator. You huff and lift your hands up to yell for the gator before the ground shakes and an ear ringing CLANG sounds from behind you.

The force of the shockwave caused you to yell out in surprise as you lost your footing and fell forward. Inches before eating turf, the back of your collard work shirt snaps you to a halt.

“Fallin all over yerself just to see me, are ya?”

You fell to the ground with a grunt, body sagging in delayed relief at both not losing your front teeth and hearing Monty sound at least mostly intact.

“Oh haha very funny,” you snark, pushing yourself up and dusting off. You look up at the gator, hands going up to reflexively cup the animatronics jaw as he lowered his head to meet your hands. The soft hissing of hydraulics releasing as Monty sagged into your hold slightly always made an affectionate warmth spread through your chest.

“Alright big guy, talk to me.” You kept your voice soft, the pad of your thumbs gently rubbing back and forth against the gators jaw.

[meowzfordayz]

apple of my eye

Author’s Note: hello, hi, heyo! This is written w/ connotations of being in the USA. Update: on pg 4 atm (2am), and haven’t even gotten to the actual details of the request yet LMAO. 😭 Pacing’s being uncooperative, but at least it’s fluffy as heck. 😇 Update: on pg 5 (3am), and finally getting to the actual details of the request. 😆 Update: on pg 7 (2pm), and it’s finished !! 🥳 

apple of my eye

Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader

Word Count: ~2,700

CW: explicit language, mild sexual content

Request Fulfilled: Hey,

I hope you’re fine 😊

I loved your last writing with Kyojuro.

It makes me cry so much.

It was a great work !

CanI request a Teacher Reader x Kyojuro History Teacher in the same school ?

Reader is in a relationship with Kyojuro, she works in the same highschool than him. She loves to tease Kyojuro by saying to the students they have in common some History fake news

(like Mermaids were real and The Vikings exhanged products with them).

And when the class end, the students run to Kyojuro to ask him if this is all true.

Kyojuro can’t takes it anymore 😂

I hope this is okay with you 😊

~faqs~

Recess: also known as The Golden Hour (well, technically, The Golden Half an Hour). Although, to be fair, most of elementary school is essentially Golden. Art projects? Baking soda volcanos? Learning songs? Reading buddies? Certainly, you schedule in structured academic lessons as well, but your general approach to teaching is immersive, interactive, and fun, fun, fun — Golden! Does it help that teaching elementary school grants you greater flexibility and control over your curriculum and in class activities? Sure. But do other teachers take… a different, approach?

Absolutely.

Exhibit A: your dearest Kyojuro.

“Rengoku,” you stand in his classroom’s doorway, fingers interlocked anxiously in front of you, trying to maintain a professional expression.

“[last]!” he smiles brightly, sitting at his desk—noting how the lovely color of your shirt accents the lovely color of your eyes—Whoa. Breathe. Focus, Kyojuro! “What brings you here?” What a pleasant surprise!

You restrain a sharp diss [y/n], this isn’t about you, “I have a couple of questions, actually. Do you have a moment?”

He nods. You stride to his desk, consciously willing your fingers to fall to your hips. He’s pretty you involuntarily muse, your logic and reason short circuiting as cedar and sandalwood envelops you. He smells delicious you frown faintly, subconsciously memorizing the curl of his fiery, tied hair, delighted by how perfectly stray tendrils frame his welcoming face. Stop! What the hell? Focus, [y/n].

“What grade do we teach, Rengoku?” the corner of his mouth twitches at your aggression.

“We teach fourth grade, [last],” he’s slightly confused.

“Exaaactly.” To hell with polite pretenses. “We teach fourth grade, so why are we making children cry? In fourth grade?”

He’s very confused, “We… make children, cry?”

Rolling your eyes, you lean toward him, palms flat on his desk, “No, Rengoku. You, make children cry. And I swear: if I have one more of your students visit me, eyes glistening, because you’re treating them like goddamn middle schoolers, then you’ll face a lot more than an angry coworker. They have another year of elementary, middle school, high school, and likely college, to stress the fuck out — no need to start them so early.”

He’s dumbfounded. Needs a second. A long second. To process you leaning toward him. To process and shatter at your words. I’m making my students cry? He’s aghast. They’re always chatting, laughing, and participating in class he ponders frantically Could it be their homework? His eyes narrow But if I’m making my students cry, then surely an upset parent would have contacted me? You study his actions closely, ready to pounce at any sign of apathy, but the narrowing of his eyes, the tensing of his jaw… you almost regret your harshness as dismay furrows his brows.

“I… was unaware, of this situation,” his usually radiant volume is… quiet. Ashamed. “Nobody has brought this to my attention,” he swallows thickly, “And I-” he exhales shakily, “I thought nothing was amiss.”

Of course, he believes you: if you claim his students are crying, then they’re crying. You’re acquainted, classrooms side by side. He can still fondly recall his first day a couple years ago: you’d greeted him enthusiastically, swearing to be “neighborly” and that “if you need anything, then don’t hesitate to visit — I’m right next door”. He’d visited so frequently, that you’d eventually remarked, “I’m getting the feeling that you need me.” He’d turned an alarming shade of pink, stammering, “Oh, no, not at all! I do not mean to discomfort you, [last]! Thank you for the extra staples!” Did that encounter deter his frequent visits? Nope! You’d waved him off good naturedly, hoping he hadn’t recognized your embarrassment (he hadn’t, too distracted by his own explicit, guilty fantasies). You’re a wonderful teacher — he knows you’re the favorite, and is happy for you to retain that title. An honest coworker. Humorous. Intelligent. Mesmerizing. Beautiful. Disappointed in him.

“Rengoku…” you’re soft, a possibility forming, “You had no idea?”

“Truly,” he’s firm. Assured.  Genuine. Vulnerable.

“Well,” and then you’re reaching, thumb brushing along his tense jaw.

He shudders. You squeak, immediately retracting your thumb. Fuckfuckfuck. He clears his throat. Loudly.

“What, what was, what did, you had, what else, an additional…” Look what you’ve done to me Kyojuro groans inwardly, albeit not discontentedly. He’s flustered.

You collect yourself, proud at the minimal quivering in your voice, “Perhaps… I jumped to conclusions. You’re simply the type that no one wants to let down.”

He doesn’t understand.

“Rengoku, your students visit me with their unfinished homework… it’s too difficult for them. We teach fourth grade. Homework should be an extension of in class — not a tear worthy challenge,” you shrug, “But, since I’m the only one who’s scolded you thus far, I’m going to assume you’re an amazing teacher otherwise,” you chuckle lightly, “Your students don’t want to tattle on you.”

That… makes sense. Phew. … Wait. They assist my students? They care about… my students? They care about… me?

“I owe you my thanks [last],” Kyojuro flashes his signature smile, “For assisting my students when I failed them, and for informing me.”

His statement lacks resentment entirely. He’s impressed. Relieved. Grateful. Enamored.

“You, you didn’t-” now you’re flustered, “You didn’t fail them Rengoku! You received my graceless criticism quite humbly, and I presume will follow up accordingly?”

“I will! I plan to review previous homework, and make future adjustments…” he bulldozes ahead, foggy on the lingering warmth from your thumb, “Could we get tea sometime?” he continues, “You seem to have a better schema for what is appropriate for homework, and it would be my pleasure to learn from you.”

You gape at him, your response escaping from its cozy nook in your heart before you can wrangle it back, “Alright, Rengoku. I’m available this weekend. Where and when?”

Fast forward six months, and he’s Kyojuro, Kyo — your Kyo. He’s your stolen kisses in the teachers’ lounge; your breath of fresh air walking into your classroom after your final student heads home for the day; your go-to “coworker” to swap student nightmares and successes with—not that your students are ever awful, but they can definitely be headache inducing.

“Rengoku!” a student runs to Kyojuro as he watches the school yard.

Recess, also known as The Golden (Half an) Hour, consists of a handful of teachers and a plethora of students. Oftentimes, your students’ recesses overlap, and when they don’t, he finds himself smiling wistfully I wish they were here. You’re discrete about your romantic involvement, but there’s no harm in casual conversation. Besides, you’re quick to shush him whenever he gets… enthusiastic.

“Rengoku, Rengoku, Rengoku!”

He crouches to the student’s height, grinning cheerfully, “I am here! What is it?”

“Is it true you and [last] are in love?”

He blinks rapidly. Pardon?

“Someone saw you and [last] at the grocery store yesterday! [last] giggled and kissed your cheek! How does it feel when they giggle because of you? How does it feel when they kiss your cheek? Were they your first kiss?”

The student says this hurriedly, beaming eagerly. Meanwhile, Kyojuro’s experiencing deer-in-headlights Shitshitshit, unsure how to recover from the barrage of personal inquiries. Not to mention Why does this student talk like my therapist? and It feels… like coming home.

“It must feel awesome when someone giggles because of you! Kissing is kind of yucky, but I guess it’s okay between you and [last], because you kissed them too! On the LIPS.”

Unfazed by Kyojuro’s atypical silence, the student laughs obliviously, skipping away abruptly as their friends motion for them.

“IT’S TRUUUE! RENGOKU AND [LAST] ARE IN LOOOVE!”

Sigh.

“You are positive? I do not want to interfere with your career,” Kyojuro stares at you, blushing deeply. He doesn’t want to halt your relationship, but he respects and desires your wellbeing first and foremost. Knows how cherished and magnificent of an educator you are. Knows your students, his students, anyone and everyone fortunate to learn from you, couldn’t afford to—shouldn’t have to—lose you. If I cannot nourish you, then I do not want to hinder you.

You’re both cross legged on his couch, knees touching familiarly. Remnants of dinner, pasta and red sauce (you made the red sauce, from scratch; he made the pasta, also from scratch), rest on his nearby coffee table. His floor lamp casting a mellow ambience, highlighting the tender angles of his face.

“Kyo, I’m positive,” you smile, endeared by his boyish panic, “We’ve been coworkers for years. And now we’re dating. It was bound to surface,” you poke his cheek, winking, “I wonder who discovered us… I suppose you’re hard to miss,” you tug on one of his stray, fiery tendrils of hair, “And I’m an adult. I can handle a career and a lover.”

“A lover?” his eyes widen.

“Are you playing coy, Kyo?” you wink.

“We haven’t made love,” he rasps. Sex, but not… not, love.

“Would you like to change that?” you whisper, fingers rubbing tantalizing circles on his lower thighs.

He grips your wrists gently, tone lowered promisingly, “I would like to make you my lover,” he presses your fingers to his chest, “I would like to be your lover.”

As he moves to cup your face in his steady, adoring hands, affection infinite in his gaze, you already know — you’ve been his lover for a while now, and he’s been yours.

“Rengoku, Rengoku!”

He glances up from his desk, recognizing your student as they barge into his classroom.

“Mermaids aren’t real. They’re not. But [last] read us a story today, and they said the story was based on real events. So are they real? Are they pretend? If they’re real, then how can I become one?”

Again?

Kyojuro smiles patiently, setting his pen beside his remaining, ungraded science reports, “From a distance, some sea animals can appear to be mermaids, but they are unfortunately not real. The stories written about them are fantastic though! Do you have a favorite?”

The student pauses, nose scrunched, “The one in the story [last] read.”

He’s kept track, and this is day 10—in a row—that a student, your student(s), has asked him about something utterly random and unexpected. As the two fourth grade teachers, he knows his and your students exchange “notes”, discuss among themselves, and are essentially a conglomerate. Which, he encourages — he’s glad there’s friendliness and friendships from classroom to classroom. He just never imagined you’d… weaponize, it.

It began innocently.

A shy student of yours had entered his classroom, worrying about, “What if Bigfoot steps on my house?” because they lived near a park, and you’d read a story about searching for Bigfoot — in the woods.

“I doubt the park is large enough to shelter Bigfoot, so I guarantee your house is safe from stomping.”

And then the next day, “Rengoku, sir, [last] read a story where Atlantis exists and has tons of gold. Could I go there and become rich?”

“Ah, sadly, Atlantis does not exist. As for tons of gold and becoming rich, you have a terrific attitude and determination — that will provide for you in more meaningful ways.”

And the next day, “Rengoku? I’m sorry to bother you, but, [last] read a tale about Vikings and how they conquered Europe. Are they going to conquer us? Am I gonna be a Viking?”

“The Vikings did not conquer Europe, but they were gifted seafarers and traded with many countries. Have you ever gone sailing? That could be a fine introduction to becoming a modern Viking!”

Despite his normally vast tolerance, Kyojuro’s at his wits’ end: if he gets to day 15, then he might implode. He’s creative and imaginative, and couldn’t fathom rejecting a child’s curiosity, but Why don’t their students ask them?! He braces himself now when the dismissal bell rings, knowing someone’ll rush into his classroom rambling about [last] this and story that. Does he sound annoyed? He isn’t. Well, maybe a smidgen. But only because he’s protective of his time with you (you’re both busy), and he’s accustomed to getting to visit your classroom immediately after school ends. He’s… baffled. He’s considered, obviously, confronting you about whatever’s going on, but he isn’t overwhelmed to the point of calling Mercy.

“Kyo?” you tap his ear, smiling tiredly, “Earth to Kyo.”

You’re in your bed, Kyojuro sitting with his laptop in his lap, you sitting with your book. A common occurrence, as of late. Is it risky sleeping together on a school night? Counterintuitively: not really. In fact, you can’t remember the last time you slept through your alarm. Kyojuro’s a freak of an early bird, whereas you’re as owlish of night as they come. You’ve developed a routine of staying at his or him at yours, nurturing a supportive environment of planning lessons, brainstorming solutions to short and long term issues, and grading assignments. If you drink one too many mugs of coffee, then Kyojuro reminds you of your brilliance and dedication, and that, “[y/n], lover, I think you are good on coffee for the remainder of the evening.” And if he stirs before the sun’s even risen, groggy and weary, then you’re there to place a drowsy arm on his hip, coaxing him back to sleep for a couple more hours, “M’sleepy, go to sleepy, not time for wakey yet, shhh.”

“Your students are inquisitive.”

Your head tilts, “Thanks?”

“I was recently asked about dragons, and which pet shop they could be purchased from.”

“Oh? Mhm. That’s… odd…” you’re holding in a giggle, hoping he doesn’t look at you.

He does.

Mhm! Odd indeed, lover!

“What exactly is going on in the classroom next to mine, [y/n]? What mysterious operation is [last] conducting?” his eyes glint mischievously, laptop closed and pushed aside.

You don’t notice the gleam in his eyes, too engrossed in your book as you stubbornly ignore him.

“You are a marvelous teacher, [last]. So why don’t your students ask you their scintillating questions? I am confident in your ability to answer them,” he bows his head, lips delicately skimming your collarbone.

“K-kyo,” your book trembles.

He sucks at the sensitive skin below your throat, plucking your book from your grasp, smirking at your half hearted, “I was reading t-that!”

“Rengoku,” he murmurs roughly, teeth scratching at your earlobe, “That is, Rengoku, to you. Unless, [last], you would like to become… more, intimate?”

Your fingers clutch the collar of his shirt, “I would, Rengoku,” you mouth at his chest, “I would like to become more, intimate,” fingers slipping under the hem of his shirt, ghosting across his taut abs. “Kyojuro.” So. Hot. “Kyo.”

And then the heat disappears. His body, so so close, now so so far. He’s glowing, provoking, teasing — standing beside your bed instead of falling apart beside you.

“Excuse me?” you’re sassy, in disbelief, intoxicated.

“My apologies, [last],” he grins slyly, carelessly pulling off his shirt, yawning exaggeratedly, “I just realized the time. It is late, and alas, it is a school night!” 

As if his muscles aren’t contracting and flexing, their strength illuminated by the sensuality of nightfall.

As if his eyes aren’t predatory, smug, infatuated.

As if his nonchalant charade could sway your wanton, demanding exhilaration.

“You’re the expert!” you gasp.

He raises an eyebrow, “The expert?”

You pout, whining needily, “My students. When I read them stories, I tell them you’re the expert on whatever the story’s about. I tell them if they have questions, then you’re the man to ask.”

He laughs amusedly, slowly, slowly, slowly, returning to you, “And why do you tell them that, [last]?”

“Because it’s f-funny,” you whimper, “Because you’re original and thoughtful and my heart tingles when they tell me what you’ve taught them. To be brave. To be determined. Adventurous. Kind.”

Gosh I am... I am in love with you.

Growling, he pins your elbows to your bed, hovering desperately, longingly, above you. You’re sneaky. He nips at your neck. Clever. He licks your bottom lip. Devastating. He licks your upper lip. How am I going to get revenge? He kisses you languidly, wetly. It is on [y/n]. It is so. Very. On.

[hauntingmothgirl]

Jealousy, Jealousy - Part 4

Hi, IM BACK!!! I hope yall missed me. Sorry, I was gone for so long, I had a medical emergency, will be getting surgery soon so wish me good luck on that! I hope yall are still interested in this story. A lot of people seemed to like the To Hell and Back series, so thank you for the support, it really makes me smile. This is kind of a filler chapter so I hope that’s okay. This was an original idea thought up by @shelikesloki. So thank you so much for the recommendation. If you have any suggestions/requests or want me to write a specific idea then feel free to ask, my dms and asks are open, but for now here’s part 4! Part 5 will be up tomorrow. PLEASE give me some suggestions of what you want to see! This series spans across the beginning of season 8.

Concept from @shelikesloki: After overhearing Morgan and Reid speaking about Maeve, Y/n has trouble with the idea that she’s missed her chance with Spencer. But after the team helps save Maeve, will Reid and Maeve even work out?

☾

The stalker was a woman JJ had decided when she’d noticed black eyeliner had been used to draw the crosses through Maeve’s face. That’d been why she’d masked her voice on the phone, why Maeve had been so willing to open her home to her. The only question left had been how the stalker had known about Maeve and spencer's… relationship. When Spencer had noticed that Maeve’s ex fiancé, Bobby Putnam’s (a former suspect in her disappearance), current girlfriend had identified Spencer upon first meeting without being introduced to him. 

Standing in Bobby’s apartment wasn’t as upsetting, glass from what looked to be a bottle littered the dining room floor, a small pool of blood left in the middle of it. Compared to the state of Maeve’s apartment, it seemed that the unsub had had a normal conversation which abruptly turned violent again, a running trait it seemed. 

Diane Huntington had appeared to be a fake name, her entire identity had been preplanned, she’d listed a fake address and used a burner phone to contact Bobby. With no trails to lead off of now, we’d had to work off of Spencer’s mind, details he’d subconsciously remembered throughout their interactions that could point us in the direction of the unsub, 

☾

We’d just started talking about the possibilities of the stalker being a former lover of Maeve’s when my phone had buzzed for the fifteenth time that day. Gritting my teeth and setting my jaw, I removed myself from my chair, offering a quick apology, before making my way out into the hallway before flipping my phone open. 

“What, Tony?!” I’d whisper screamed as I made my way for the stairwell. 

“Been bugging you that much, has he?” The familiar voice on the other end of the phone chuckled. 

“Gibbs,” I breathed, “Sorry, I’ve been busy.” 

“Too busy to pick up a call for the past three months?” My former boss mumbled. The door to the stairwell groaned as I closed it behind me and inhaled deeply. 

“Things have been… hectic lately.”

“Well, I’ll say,” his tone came out rough, annoyed. 

“Is this about the case Tony mentioned, cause I really can't get in the middle of that right now, I’m swamped and-”

“No, no, we got that fixed up,” he reassured, “That’s actually what I was calling about, Tony mentioned your case.” I suppressed a bitter comment as I listened, of course Tony had mentioned it, I’d expect nothing less. “Is there anything we can do?” He asked.

“I don't even know if there’s anything WE can do. We’ve got no leads right now, I’m worried she won't make it, Gibbs,” I started. Gibbs had always been a father figure to me and my old coworkers. That’d been part of the reason I’d been hesitant to speak to him, once you started talking, it was hard to stop. He had that effect on people, it’s what made him so good at his job. “I’ve never seen him like this over a girl… over anyone really.” Bitterness seeped through my body once again. 

“Really, y/n, we can be there in the morning, say the word and we’ll consult,” Gibbs tried. 

“You don't understand, “ I tried to explain. “The section chief doesn't even want us on the case. It was hard enough to convince Strauss to keep us on, considering we’re too close to the victim. It’s a conflict of interest. Getting the okay to have you consult would be impossible, you're not a current profiler, you're not in the unit.” I finished. 

We sat there for a moment before he broke the silence, “I understand.” I paced the stairwell platform nervously as I waited for his next words, the team already noticed my absence, making it any longer would be a problem. 

“Y/n, are you okay?” He asked. I didn’t know how to respond for a moment, Gibbs didn't indulge in conversations about feelings often, or hardly ever. But if Penelope had noticed how I felt for Spencer, surely Gibbs had too. My voice broke as I tried to keep my composure, “I don't know what to do, this will ruin him. I don’t know how to watch that, to watch him break, Gibbs.” My throat felt like it was closing. “How do I sit by when we know the probabilities of how this will end? And even if it doesn't end badly,” my mind raced as I struggled to put my thoughts into words. “How do I sit across from him day after day knowing how I feel?” I knew I was being selfish, this wasn’t about me, I needed to stay present to stay focused. Thinking of the future was a bad idea currently. Heat flooded my cheeks as I struggled to regain my composure. 

“Kid,” Gibbs’ voice came out softer, “You can’t think like that, you have a job to do. You can't worry about those things while remaining helpful to your team.” 

“I know…” I struggled to find the right words, “I just can't think of anything else.”

“Listen, if it really becomes too much, you can take some time off, or- or you can come work for us again. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that actually,” His voice trailed off towards the end, my head cocked as I registered his words. 

“Gibbs, I-” He cut me off before I could finish. 

“I don't need an answer now, we just-” He was struggling as much as I was, that must’ve been the reason he’d asked Tony to call, so he wouldn’t have to be the one to ask. “We want you back, kid.”

I was silent as I thought it over. Could I really leave him like that, after going through one of the worst things imaginable? As his best friend, could I really leave in his time of need, just to avoid watching him suffer? I didn’t think I could, in general, saying no to Spencer was hard, let alone when he was in pain. But if she survived, could I really face that either? The past few weeks had been hard enough, and I’d known nothing about her. Now I knew what she looked like, I knew her history, I knew her achievements, I knew what they’d talked about. He deserved his best friend, but would I be able to be the friend he needed? To be able to focus on my work everyday with a picture of her sat atop his desk? To lay it all aside? To potentially meet her one day? To attend their wedding? My stomach turned once more.  

“It’s just an option,” He muttered in response to my silence. 

“Yeah, I’ll think about it, Gibbs. Thank you,” I said, checking my watch for the time. “I’ve gotta go, I’m sorry.” I said as I opened the staircase door. 

“Stay safe, okay?” 

“Always.” She promised, “Tell Abby I said hi,” I smiled as I imagined the perky forensic scientist’s reaction. 

“Will do,” he chuckled. 

okay, that’s part 4, and like always, i hope it didn’t disappoint. and if it did then, again, that’s chill too. sorry it took so long. and again if you have any suggestions or recommendations just ask, and if you want to be tagged in part 5, let me know! part 5 will be up tomorrow. have a beautiful day loves :)

Thanks again @shelikesloki

tags for those who asked, if you want to be tagged or untagged just lmk. <3

@phatcrackdad

@venomsvl

@instabull

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Masterlist

Part 3

[egcdeath]

ways to say i love you without saying “i love you”

pairing: steve rogers x reader

summary: you and steve explore love languages

word count: 5.1k

warnings: fluff, a little angst because of miscommunications, reader & steve being idiots, good intentions but terrible delivery, mentions of other characters

author’s note: this fic has been sitting unfinished in my drafts for so long. this fic is like, ancient. this fic was almost destroyed because it was briefly in the library of alexandria. when i reopened the document with this fic, there were mold spores growing on it. (p.s. steve’s love langauge is acts of service, and the reader’s is quality time)

you can find my masterlist and taglist here

Prologue

Steve was a multitasker. You knew this well. Perhaps too well.

That never seemed to bother you before, but if the man who was supposed to be taking a serene nature walk with you checked his goddamn flip phone one more time, you were completely sure that you’d lose it. 

You paused your story about your obnoxious coworkers for a moment, stopping in the middle of the gravelly trail you two were making your way down. 

“Steve, seriously, are you even listening?” you griped, ushering him towards the side of the pavement as a man on a bike flew by. 

He guffawed a bit at this, “of course I am. You just said something about…” he paused, and you gestured with your hands for him to continue. “Okay, sorry,” the blush on his face was becoming more and more apparent.

You involuntarily scoffed, rolling your eyes as you did so, “I’m glad to know that whatever you’re waiting for on there,” you gestured to his pocket, “is more important than spending quality time with your girlfriend, who, must I remind you, took time off to be here with you.”

“Nothing is more important to me than you, I’m just on call. I’m probably going to get called to go on a mission any moment now.”

“Steve!” you huffed, “you literally just got back, like, two hours ago. Can’t someone else go? Tony? Vision? Anyone?”

“I might’ve volunteered myself-“

“You’re unbelievable, Steve. Are you getting tired of me or something? You’ve been avoiding me like the plague ever since I moved in with you. If I upset you, or you’re gonna propose to me or something, can you just tell me?”

“I promise you it’s not personal at all,” he reached for your hand and gently held it. “Everything’s just been crazy. I mean, these Hydra bases have been popping up left and right. Just give me a little grace, okay? I don’t get upset with you when SHIELD starts making you work those ungodly hours.”

You opened your mouth to debate him, but surely enough, the canny and familiar ringtone of Steve’s work phone interrupted you before you could even begin. 

“Okay… Yeah. I’ll be there in thirty.”

You frowned at Steve as he spoke on the phone and shook your head disapprovingly, “unbelievable,” you muttered, storming in the direction of your home. 

——

Steve was no fool, he knew when he messed up, and he was more than willing to take responsibility for such. Now was one of those times. He knew that he should’ve been making more time for you. He was well aware that he shouldn’t have gotten defensive when you pointed this out. 

He just had no idea how to apologize.

You weren’t exactly making it easy for him either, taking much longer hours in an attempt to avoid him. While he could understand your frustrations, it became a little more difficult everyday for him to properly apologize to you in a way he felt was meaningful.

Eventually figuring to use your avoidance as a tool, Steve devised a plot to make an apology for you so considerate, so superb, that you could never be angry with him again. A plot that included a several course meal, all concocted by himself. 

He could imagine the look on your face as you came home from work, shocked, but the good kind of shock. Pleasantly surprised that your sweet boyfriend had put in such a huge amount of effort to say sorry. 

He couldn’t help but imagine the scenario: you would relax into your seat at the table after Steve pulled out the chair for you, hum in content as he poured your favorite wine. Moan happily at the taste of a homemade and rarely prepared salad dressing, before complimenting the melt-in-your-mouth entree he had spent an unknown amount of time laboring over. Finally, you’d gush over the dessert that Steve hadn’t had the chance to cook in years, tell him that he worked far too hard putting everything together, especially for a little argument. Steve would scoff, tell you you���re being too kind, and you would pull him in for a red wine and dark chocolate flavored kiss. 

The thought of you, your genuine and warm smile after a long day at work, and an even longer week worth of unspoken tension between you both, was enough to keep Steve motivated through the hours he spent preparing your meal.

He greeted you at the door like an excited puppy as soon as he heard your keys jingle. Sure, work had kept you a bit longer than he’d expected, and your food was likely a little cool by now, but he was excited to make amends. 

However, you did not seem to share the same enthusiasm as Steve. 

“Welcome home, gorgeous. Come sit,” Steve nudged you into the dining area, and you sluggishly followed, exhausted from a tiring day of training new agents.

“What’s wrong?” he inquired, pulling out a chair that you didn’t even attempt to sit down on. 

“I had a really long day. I kinda just wanna get to bed,” you shrugged before rubbing your creased temple.

Steve internally cringed at the thought of all of his hard work going to waste. For some reason, he’d not envisioned this less pleasant outcome before. “Sweetheart,” he began in a nearly whiny tone, but you weren’t in much of a mood to be persuaded.

“I’m sorry. Weird things were happening at work that I don’t care to get into now, and honestly, I’m not even that hungry,” you reached out and gave Steve’s hand a little squeeze. “But it all looks and smells so good! I Promise I’ll warm some up tomorrow for lunch.”

“I-,” he paused, “please. Maybe you could just take a few bites of everything. It took me a really long time to get everything prepped and ready.”

You frowned at the plea, feeling a bit guilty but almost… satisfied at the same time. Steve struggled to make time for you because of his work, and now he was getting a little taste of his own medicine. 

“I really am sorry. But hey, now we’re even?” you offered with a playful wink, slipping away before you gave your partner a chance to respond. You truly didn’t have the energy for a four course meal that night, let alone another argument. 

——

Wanda was silent for a moment as she sipped from a mug of coffee, watching you with a suspiciously focused look on her face. 

“Wanda?” you prompted, seemingly snapping her out of whatever trance she had found herself in. 

“Oh my God, I know exactly what you guys need,” she just about blurted, reaching across the café table to grab your hand. 

“Were you reading my mind?”

Your friend didn’t respond, but the devious smirk on her face was enough of an answer. 

“What happened to telling me before reading me?”

“You just looked like there was a lot on your mind. And absolutely no way that you’d tell me,” she shrugged nonchalantly.

“Of course I was gonna tell you! Why else would I ask my friend in a cute relationship to meet me for coffee?”

“Because you like me?”

“No, never that. I just needed advice,” the two of you shared a laugh for a moment.

“Well don’t waste your breath. When Vis and I had a rough patch, we just had to learn each other’s love languages. You’d be surprised just how much that synthezoid values those acts of services.”

“And you?”

“I’m a words of affirmation girl myself,” she shrugged. “You should find out yours, and try to figure out Steve’s. I guarantee it’ll be helpful in the long run. I can send you guys a test, if you want?”

“Oh god no, please don’t tell him that I told you about us. Actually, I didn’t even tell you! You were digging around in my brain, and I don’t appreciate that. Just do me a favor, and don’t share this with anyone, okay?” You paused dramatically, then leaned in to speak to your friend in a whisper, “but send me that test when you get the chance.”

Gift Giving

“A little reality-warping birdie told me you’ve been having some relationship problems,” Tony said teasingly once Bruce left the conference room, leaving him and Steve alone. 

Steve paused for a moment, trying to decide whether he should lie or fess up to the allegation. “How did she know?” Steve finally responded, standing up and pushing the chair he was sitting on behind him. 

Tony shrugged dismissively, “I don’t ask these kinds of things. I just hear in passing that the geriatric is having a hard time and tune in.”

Steve shook his head slightly, rolling his eyes to mask his clear embarrassment. 

“Well, is it true?”

“We’ve just been having the occasional… rift. A little more than occasionally.”

Tony nodded, fake pondering the situation, “well, I always know what I do for Pep, at least after I tell her I’m getting rid of the suit. Go buy her something nice. Really nice, like jewelry, or a purse if she’s into that kind of thing. I would say a car, but I know that Social Security check isn’t getting you too far. You know what? Put it on the company card. My treat.”

Steve wanted to scoff, turn his nose up at the offer like it was a terrible idea, but it really wasn’t. Maybe a material surprise was the way to win you back. He made a soft ‘hmph,’ noise as he mulled it over. “That’s definitely not your worst idea. Thanks,” he gave his teammate a soft smile before collecting himself and heading out of the conference room. 

His first stop after work was some local jeweler. Steve threw on a (not very) inconspicuous outfit before entering the building, where he browsed for a good hour, searching for something that he believed you’d like. After looking at more jewelry than he had ever cared to see in his life, he decided on a necklace with a thin golden chain with a decent sized diamond hanging off of it. It was a little pricier, and you’d be able to tell— but he hoped it would help the gift mean more to you. 

——

When you arrived home late that night, Steve was sitting in the living room waiting for you. It was almost daunting, the sight of him sitting alone on the couch mostly in the dark, only the television illuminating his face. He kind of reminded you of a parent waiting to confront their child who just snuck out, or a concerned friend seconds away from staging an intervention with you. 

Walking past the room, you peeked your head through the doorway, and observed the flat, small box in front of him on the coffee table. 

“Hey, Sweetheart,” he greeted, standing up so he could greet you with a hug and grabbing the little box as he did so.

“Is everything okay?” you probed, speaking into Steve’s shoulder.

“Of course. I just wanted you to know how much I love you, and that I’m sorry for not having as much time for you as I should,” he pulled away before holding the box out for you. 

You hesitantly took the box and opened it, letting out a gasp when you viewed the delicate looking gold necklace. 

You were having mixed emotions, because it was clearly beautiful and you were grateful to the gesture. But you knew that this must’ve been expensive, and that it was so unlike Steve to have done something like this. Your frugal, Great Depression era guy wasn’t exactly the most material. 

“I love it,” you gushed, admiring the jewelry. 

“Can I put it on you?” Steve asked, and received a nod in return.

Steve set the box down on the table and lifted up the necklace, bringing it up to your neck and focusing on clasping it in the back.

“Babe, how much was this?” you blurted, not even being able to filter the words before they left your mouth. 

“Hmm? That doesn’t matter,” he dismissed, then stepped away from you to admire your clavicle. 

“It just feels weird letting you spend so much on me.”

“It’s a gift, though. You’re not supposed to think about those things,” he hummed, pressing a chaste peck to your nose. 

“Steve, I got you a Nespresso for Christmas and you wouldn’t stop complaining about how expensive it was. I love it, I really do. It’s beautiful and I’ll always think of you when I wear it. I just think that maybe we should have the same standards for each other,” you stood up from your seat and sidestepped him. “I need a shower.”

Steve watched you walk off, letting your words simmer in his thoughts.

That was the last time he would take relationship advice from Tony. 

Words of Affirmation

This conclusion probably shouldn’t have taken you this long, but you were almost completely sure that this would be the love language to win Steve back over. You felt bad for some of the occurrences between the two of you lately, with sour exchanges and sweet moments that turned bitter on a whim.

In all honesty, you were concerned that Steve doubted your love for him. And if his love language really was words of affirmation, this would certainly convince him otherwise. 

You sat at your desk the night before Steve departed for a two-week mission, trying to write a nice message for him. You tapped your pen on the stock paper in deep thought as you tried to figure out the best thing to say. 

I’m sorry for arguing so much with you lately. You and everything that you do mean the world to me, even when you get on my nerves. I love you more than anything and that will never change. 

The words looked cramped and unkempt on the little note. Your handwriting got messier as you went. You groaned at it, crumpled the paper, and tossed it in your trash bin. Time to start over again.

I’m sorry for arguing with you. I love you a lot. Can you stop picking up your phone when we’re spending time together?

You groaned at the passive aggressive tone of your message. That certainly wasn’t going to get you anywhere. Straight to the bin it goes.

I love you so much so don’t die on your mission or I’ll be pretty upset. Be safe out there xx.

The tone was even more off now. You needed to think of something that would really make Steve remember you while he was gone. For a second, you considered snapping a nude with a polaroid and attaching it to the letter.

I’m sorry that things have been so bad nasty for us lately. I promise that I love you, despite our ups and downs. Nothing will ever change that. I’ll miss you more than you know while you’re gone. Make sure you call me every day, my love. 

A little cheesy, but you signed off with your name regardless, and contentedly looked at your work. The spacing looked correct, the tone wasn’t harsh, and you knew for a fact that Steve would appreciate it.

You stayed up a little later than normal, waiting for Steve to get home and change out of his ‘work clothes’ so that you could slip the note into his utility belt. 

You folded the note to a small little square and set it beside an granola bar in a pocket you’d assumed he frequently used. Content with your work, you laid back in bed until your partner slipped in bed beside you, and sleepily cuddled into you until you were both unconscious. 

—

Around two weeks had passed since Steve had seen you last, and he had decided to stop by the office and finish up paperwork before coming to see you. It had been radio silence on his end, despite the note in his clothing that clearly requested daily contact. Part of you wondered if Steve had seen it at all.

Steve had just finished signing the documents when he finally noticed it, reaching into a sparsely used part of his belt to have a quick snack. His hand landed on a folded piece of paper, and he cringed as he unfolded it, the letter becoming clearer and clearer as he did so. He wondered just how long the message had been waiting for him. 

He read your sweet words with a frown on his face, the guilt from not opening it sooner overriding the sweet feelings that he would otherwise have. He grabbed his phone and considered texting you, but abandoned that thought altogether. 

“FRIDAY, any idea where Y/N is right now?”

“I was told not to share any information about Ms. L/N, Captain Rogers.”

“Whose orders?” Steve pressed.

“Hers,” the bot quipped back. 

Steve groaned aloud. He was really in for it tonight.

Physical Touch

“Have you tried touching her more?” Thor casually queried. The water that Steve had just consumed nearly flew out of his nose, and his cheeks reddened instantly. 

“Pardon?” he asked, looking away from his friend instantly. 

“I understand that you and Y/N have been having troubles lately. Perhaps she does not feel held by you. Maybe she wants you to show her off in public, to hold her hand, hug her,” he suggested. 

Could Steve even be blamed for going there? He was having a chat with a god of fertility. Who wouldn’t think the same? 

“Stark’s gala tonight. Show the world that she’s yours, and I guarantee that she’ll love every moment of it.”

——

You were confused. Really confused.

The night began with some simple touches, hand holding as you entered the building, a casual arm around your waist as you chatted with donors and politicians you hadn’t seen in months, a playful match of footsie under the table while waiting for food. But it came to a head when Steve had decided to rest his hand on your ass and grope you in the midst of a conversation.

Now, in any other situation, you would welcome this affection. But both you and Steve had never been a fan of PDA, and this was a bit too far. 

As subtle as you could manage, you pushed his hand away, offering him a sour look as you did so. 

“Excuse us,” you told some rich old man in an artificially sweet tone before ushering Steve off to his office for a bit more privacy.

“What was that about?” you questioned, sitting down in the padded chair behind Steve’s desk, and running your fingers over your necklace in a bit of a nervous tick. 

“What do you mean?” he retorted, standing across from you at the desk and setting his hands on top of the clear table.

“Why were you groping me in front of people? That’s really... unlike you. And it made me uncomfortable.”

Steve frowned genuinely, looking down at the table in embarrassment. “I’m really sorry. For making you uncomfortable. It sounds ridiculous but I was just trying something new.”

“Apology accepted, but are you sure? You weren’t like, jealous of those guys or something? You know you’re the only hundred year old I have eyes for,” you set your hands atop of his and squeezed.

Steve chuckled at this, the flush of his cheeks only highlighted more by the laughter, “it’s just that, uh, Thor told me I should try showing you off more. Or something like that.”

“So you groped me in front of our guests? That’s silly. And a little unprofessional,” you glanced over at the cork board on his desk sitting next to his desktop, and amongst the neatly arranged scratched out to-do lists and random reminders, you couldn’t help but notice the creased paper of the note you’d left for his mission. Your chest warmed when your eyes fell upon it. 

“When did you find this thing?” you asked, pointing to the note. 

“I meant to say something, but when I found it, FRIDAY said you didn’t want to talk to me. SO I was going to bring it up when I got home, but you were still working. After that, I kinda… you know-”

“Forgot?” you finished with a hearty laugh, “It’s fine. You’re such a dork. C’mere so I can get my own groping in,” you chided, grinning to yourself when Steve wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace. 

Acts of Service

Steve was quietly folding your laundry in your bedroom when it finally occurred to you, but when it did, it hit like a ton of bricks.

Steve’s love language was acts of service!

Things suddenly began to make sense to you, the way that he initially attempted to apologize by spending hours cooking one meal, how he consistently worked to make your life as comfortable as possible, and his great insistence to do house chores, despite you being more than capable.

Steve set down a stack of folded sweatshirts by your calf, snapping you away from your brief retrospective daze. If that really was the case, and Steve’s love language truly was acts of kindness, you had to come up with some sort of plan to communicate to him just how much you cared about him in a way that he really appreciated.

Luckily for you, you were a quick thinker. Before you even knew it, a week filled with random acts of kindness before he was off on yet another mission was quickly hatched.

——

You were up at the ass-crack of dawn. Really. Steve liked to get up earlier than the sun in order to run, or train, or whatever the hell it was that superheroes did. You were seriously regretting your decision to wake up around the same time as him in order to do some favors for him in the morning. 

By the time Steve was back from his run, his favorite coffee was brewed and cooling, and you were in the laundry room at the dryer, preparing to give Steve a warm towel after his shower.

Despite the three mugs of coffee you’d just downed, it was becoming more and more difficult to keep your eyes open. It didn’t help that your eyelids felt like they weighed fifty pounds each, and the warmth of the dryer next to you was providing you with just enough comfort to drift off.

And drift you did. In fact, half an hour later, you’d missed the frantic calling out for you from your boyfriend as he searched for you around the apartment. 

You finally awoke when he shook your shoulders, his amused voice bringing you back to consciousness. 

“What’s going on here?” Steve grinned, pushing some hair out of your face. 

“Mmm,” you began, “Iwantedtogetawarmtowel,” you slurred sleepily and incoherently.

“Even with super hearing I couldn’t decipher that. Let’s get you a mattress, okay?” Steve hoisted you up like you were nothing, and carried your half asleep body all the way up to your bedroom. 

The next thing you knew, you were buried under your favorite comforter and propped against a mountain of feathery pillows. A gentle forehead kiss and an incomprehensible sentence about calling off of work for you later, you were back in a deep sleep. 

So much for warm towels.

—

You were going to do better this time. That’s what you told yourself as you strolled through the grocery store, the same store that you hadn’t shopped in since moving in with Steve, as he preferred to do the shopping himself.

Equipped with a short paper list and sheer determination to make the trip as short and accurate as possible, you gathered all of the groceries that you believed were necessary— just enough to restock the fridge, and fill some gaps left in the cupboard. 

Your time at the store was indeed brief, as you found yourself in the checkout lane after just twenty minutes (you definitely weren’t going to brag about that to Steve later. Definitely not), and back home with just enough time to unload the groceries, and further prep yourself to go to work. 

You’d honestly forgotten about your trip to the store by the time that you arrived home, up until you found your boyfriend arm deep in your pantry, hellbent on finding… something.

“Can I help you?” you poked with a laugh, coming up beside Steve and peeking over his shoulder.

“I’m just… Did you happen to grab any protein bars while you were at the store?” he asked, pausing his search to look back at you.

“I don’t think so. Why? It’s not like you need any more protein,” you teased, squeezing a bicep to demonstrate your words.

“They’re pretty convenient when I’m out in the field. Don’t worry about it, though. I’ll just swing by the store and grab some before my mission tomorrow. Actually, I should probably go now. Y’know, before I forget,” Steve was already grabbing his car keys from the counter by the time his sentence was finished, leaving you to fight off your disappointment at your minor grocery store failure.

You looked at what you now knew was an insufficiently filled pantry and pinched the bridge of your nose. You had seriously underestimated the ins and outs of shopping for a super soldier. 

Well, third time’s the charm?

—

After this week, you would never complain about waking up early again. You were now up at an absolutely ungodly hour, scrambling eggs, flipping pancakes, and spreading jam on toast for a sleeping, unsuspecting Steve.

You placed the plate on a sturdy wooden tray, poured orange juice and an extra glass of water, and set a nicely folded napkin, along with utensils, next to the items.

You hoped that the scent of bacon wafting up to your bedroom would eventually pull him out of his slumber, and seeing how bacon was the only thing left to finish cooking, you took a little break. 

A round of Candy Crush turned into two, then three, and goddamnit, why can’t you beat this fourth level! You got so wrapped up in your mobile game that you didn’t even notice when the scent from your kitchen became slightly rancid, and when you rushed over to the oven to check on your now extremely burnt bacon, the smoke detector wailed.

You grabbed a kitchen towel and waved your arms like a madwoman near the smoke detector, the shrieking eventually stopping, but not before Steve was halfway down the stairs.

“Y/N, where are you? Is everything okay?” he nearly shouted, racing down the stairs and barreling through the smoky kitchen to find you. When he reached you, he wrapped his arms around your waist and began to pull you out of the kitchen. 

“Steve, relax. Everything is okay. Except those pieces of bacon,” you rubbed your now sweaty palms on your pajama pants before breaking away from him to crack open the kitchen window. 

“Christ, what happened? And why are you up so early?”

“I was trying to make you breakfast in bed,” you admitted, rather embarrassed by the dramatic scene you’d accidentally created. “Sorry,” you muttered.

Steve wrapped his arms around you once more, this time in a reassuring bear hug that left your cheeks pressed to his chest. “Don’t be. I really appreciate this, and everything else you’ve done this week. It’s the thought that counts, right?”

“I guess,” you mumbled into his shirt. 

“Besides, everything else looks delicious. And you tried your best for me while trying something new. I think that’s really sweet of you.”

“Really?” you pried, looking up at him.

“Really,” Steve confirmed.

“Well, I think it would be really sweet of you if you went back to bed and got all cozy so I can take care of you.”

Steve chuckled softly, pressed a little kiss to your nose, then nodded, “yes ma’am.”

Quality Time

Steve had been in a bubbly mood since getting back from his mission, and for no particular reason. It wasn’t like you weren’t happy that your partner was happy, but feeling like you were out of the loop was slightly concerning.

Before you could let your thoughts run too wild, you decided to pop the question during one of your evening walks. 

“Okay Steve, what is going on with you?” you asked, veering to the side of the trail when a biker rode past you. 

“Nothing big. Nothing too important. I’m just out of service for the next three months,” Steve said casually, playing it cool. 

“What?!” you paused, your brows raising and eyes widening in surprise as you searched his face for sincerity. “You’re serious?”

“Serious as a heart attack.”

“Steve!” you gasped happily, nearly roaring out his name in excitement. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I was going to tell you before wining and dining you, but you beat me to it. So…?”

“…So I’m happy to have you back. I may need you to negotiate some time away from work for me in the next few months, then. I don’t wanna miss this preview of stay-at-home-dad-Steve.”

“Hey, don’t push it.”

“Oh, I’m planning on pushing it.” 

Epilogue

The sun was beating down on you, but the soothing breeze that flowed past your checked blanket every so often provided a pleasant antidote to the summer heat.

You’d truly picked the best day for a picnic.

Despite spending a good amount of time with your partner, the last month and a half had truly felt like a whirlwind. You casually started looking for a forever home, found yourselves making plans for an early retirement, and you had a new, sneaking suspicion that a proposal was on the horizon.

In the midst of it all, Steve had suggested that the two of you take a midday tryst at your local park and throw yourselves a little picnic. Of course you obliged, because when your greek god of a boyfriend suggests going on a spur of the moment date, you agree.

You now watched the nearly cloudless sky with pure, unadulterated feelings of content and joy while Steve set a slice of cheese on a cracker, leaning over your body to feed you. As you opened your mouth, Steve paused abruptly at the soft vibration coming from his pocket. 

Steve resumed as if nothing had changed, popping the cracker into your open mouth and letting his phone continue to ring.

“Don’t you wanna get that?” you questioned.

“It can wait,” Steve stated nonchalantly, slipping his phone out of his pocket and pressing decline with absolutely no hesitation before tossing the device to the edge of your blanket.

You didn’t realize how long you’d been waiting to hear those three words.

-------

a/n: this could’ve been solved in like 20 minutes by sitting down and taking a love language quiz together

[petitepandabear]

The Empty Office | Chapter 1

Words: 1157

“My God,” you said under your breath, a sour Monday morning sneer on your lips.

Your left arm was struggling to hold on to several folders that were dangerously close to collapse. Your right hand was occupied with a cupholder of two coffees, one for you, one for your boss. 

I’m doing it, you thought to yourself. I’m going to quit and find a better job where I can have my own office and not have to worry about anyone else’s coffee but my own. I’m over this shit. 

Senses muted by your weekly rage, you didn’t realize you were headed straight for a metal pole. Seeing the obstacle, you did your best to dodge to the right, but failed. Your foot caught the side of the pole, sending you lurching forward. You had to save three things: the folders, the coffee, and yourself.

In a desperate decision, you let the folders fall from your arm to balance the coffee and catch yourself against a nearby bike rack. The moment you were righted, you felt dread settling in your stomach. It had taken hours to meticulously organize the lists, profiles, and informative reports in that folder. 

You should have dropped the coffee.

Turning slowly, you expected to see the devastating result of your accident, papers flying through the air, pages lying limp in dirty pools of water. The picture before you, however, was unexpected.

“You almost lost these,” a short, equally grumpy looking man said as he held your folders out to you.

“Thanks,” you said, hastily taking them from his grip. “You’ve saved my Monday.”

“Wish I could say the same” he said blankly before continuing on his way.

You blinked like a fool, glued to your spot on the sidewalk. He was a stranger, owing you nothing, but he didn’t have to be so rude. If he was going to act like an ass, why had he helped at all?

Wrinkling your nose, you kept walking, more grumbling and negativity swirling around in your thoughts as you did your best to stay balanced. This week was going to be absolutely horrible, you could feel it in your bones.

Swiping your badge to enter the office building was a struggle, but you managed to collect yourself enough to get through the doors and into the warmth of the lobby. The receptionist gave you a bored look as you walked by. Everyone was upset this morning, it seemed.

As you approached the elevator, you noticed a familiarly small figure. The same tailored coat, neat black hair. A quick glance affirmed your suspicion.

Before you could save yourself from the awkwardness, the elevator door opened, dooming you to suffer through a ride with the man.

“What floor,” he asked.

“Six.”

You watched as he lazily pressed his middle finger against the button. He stood nearer to the door in front of you, not making any motion to choose another floor. If your hands weren’t full, you would have been saving yourself from the uncomfortable vibe by looking through your emails or checking in on some college friends’ social media pages. Unfortunately, you had to stand behind the stranger looking everywhere but at him.

The elevator came to a stop, a welcomed bell drawing you to the doors to pass the man. He moved in front of you, continuing down the left hall. You frowned, wondering what he was up to. You knew everyone on the floor, and he most certainly did not work here. You were even up to date on all the gossip, so unless something drastic had happened over the weekend, this man wasn’t even a spouse, partner, or secret affair of one of your coworkers.

Noticing the clock hand twitching dangerously close to eight, you headed to your office, well, your boss’ office. Your humble desk was set in a modest lounge that connected to his workspace. Erwin Smith was notorious for calling on you for assorted errands. As such you were doomed to be close.

You smirked at the thought, doubting anyone could get close to the stern-browed man. If his physical demeanor weren’t intimidating enough, his determined voice and hardened mannerisms were sure to chase anyone off. 

Quickly setting down the coffees on your desk, you rearranged the folders and straightened the loose pages. Once everything seemed to be in order, you grabbed the larger coffee and knocked on Erwin’s door.

“Come in,” he said.

His tone was always strong, confident, and intimidating. You shivered a little as you turned the handle with your elbow. No matter how many times you spoke with him, hearing his voice always seemed to trigger your fight or flight response. You tried not to show it to him directly, but you suspected he was aware of your fear.

“Good morning, Mr. Smith,” you said entering the dimly lit room. “I brought last month’s productivity summaries and your coffee.”

You placed the two on the desk in front of him, taking care that the coffee was centered on his coaster.

“Thank you.”

He reached for the coffee and brought the cup to his lips. Fuck, even the way he drank was intimidating. 

You backed away with as much of a smile as you could muster.

“I’ll bring you your schedule,” you said, heading out the door.

“Wait,” he interrupted. “I actually need you to make a few changes for me.”

“Changes?”

He nodded. “I received an unexpected call from an old friend. I’ll need you to move a few things around so I can have lunch with him.”

Great. You had to reschedule the Jaeger deal. Again. Zeke would not be pleased.

“I’ll get that done for you,” you said with a now completely inauthentic smile. “Anything else?”

“For now, that will be all. Thank you.”

You left the office, closing the door behind you. Every muscle in your body was fighting the urge to throw glass, punch the wall, or scream. Maybe that was being dramatic, but you had already started the day off poorly.

“Rearrange my schedule for me,” you mumbled to yourself. “Deal with angry potential partners and explain to them why I can’t be bothered to meet with them when I said I would meet with them after telling them I couldn’t meet with them…”

Your frustrated gibberish was constant as you once again contacted Zeke Jaeger’s assistant with the bad news. Thankfully, through some merciful act of the universe, a quick email reply revealed that Jaeger himself had arranged other plans as well.

Sighing, you managed to block out a window for Erwin to have a comfortably paced lunch meeting with his friend, whoever it happened to be.

Sending the revised schedule to your boss, you leaned back in your chair, prepared to finally enjoy the now lukewarm coffee you so desperately needed. One sip of the liquid sent notes of hazelnut dancing on your tongue. Maybe this Monday wouldn’t be so bad.

[twinklelilstarkey]

Event - Vince Dunn

Words: 1.2k+

Type: Fluff

Summary: Y/N has to go to a Blues event and now Vince really regrets not accepting the invite after it was given to him so many times.

Warnings: Female!Reader. Very slight mentions of alcohol, sad boi vince but sweet boi vince. I think that’s it...?

“This is so unfair. Why can’t I go?” Vince asks.

He’s laying right in the middle of your bed, legs and arms spread out like a starfish as he continues to throw his little tantrum.

“Because you said to me, a week prior to this, that it will be extremely boring and you would prefer to stay home.” You repeat as you stand in the middle of the bathroom, looking for your mascara. “As well as declined every other formal invite after it.”

He groans loudly and you grin at the sound. Sure, he’s acting like a total kid, but deep down, he knows it’s his fault that he can’t go to the party.

The party has been planned for more than a month. It is a St. Louis Blues party, to celebrate some sort of commemorative date, but the players weren’t obligated to go. Sure, it is supposed to be the team commemorating, but since a lot of players always prefer to stay home, they’ve stopped forcing them to go.

In their defense, they do ask the players if they want to go at least 3 times throughout the month, since, of course, they want to have everything planned if they do appear. Media and more photographers, you know the deal.

Your dear boyfriend, Vince, was asked by the team’s staff those 3 times and a few more times by you - also an employee of the Blues. He refused every single one of those times because it will be ‘boring’.

Kind of dumb on his part because he expected you to stay home as well. Jokes on him, you love any annual event and you would kill to have more time with your work friends. 

You and your coworkers suffer together in meetings and work through painful hours as a group, of course, some kind of connection would happen.

And also... Who refuses free alcohol and food?

You walk back to the bedroom, mascara in hand, and take a look at your dress, displayed on a hanger up on the wardrobe’s door to fight any wrinkles.

Should you do your makeup first? Or put the dress on firs- Nop, makeup first.

You take a seat on your chair, looking through your makeup and as you start thinking about what exactly you’re going to do on your face, you feel this intense and burning glare at your side.

“Can I help you with something?” You ask playfully, lifting your gaze to Vince, who is now laying on his side.

“What am I supposed to do while you’re out?”

You smile and give him a slight shrug before answering.

“Your friends are also not going, right? You could all play together.” You say, turning to look at yourself in the mirror before starting to grab the products, “Like you always do...” You whisper to yourself playfully.

“But I want to go out with you.” He says, voice now muffled.

You steal him a look and see that he has hidden his face in the pillows, now laying on his stomach, arms by his side.

When deciding not to answer anything since you, honestly, don’t know what else to say to him, you start to finally work on your makeup. 

You check your phone a few times per 10 minutes to see if you’re taking as long as you think you are.

Vince is now laying on your bed quietly, which did make you check on him to see if he’s asleep... Nop, just staring at the ceiling with a sad scowl on his face.

Right as you are halfway done with your makeup, with the corner of your eye, you see him stand from the bed and disappear from your line of sight for a second. The rolling sound of the small wheels of his gaming chair are heard over the wooden floors and you look at him through the mirror.

Vince positions his chair, previously stolen from the desk, behind you and takes a seat, giving you an audience of one while doing your makeup.

You try to focus on your task at hand and not him for a few minutes, not wanting to take more time than needed. Right as you finally finish with your eyes, you lean back on your chair and notice that he is watching your every move.

He doesn’t look bored or upset, he looks interested. He has said to you before that he likes seeing you do your makeup because, and you quote, he ‘could never do such a thing’, but it’s still heartwarming to see him be so attentive to your tasks.

Once finally done with everything, you sigh in relief, again. Thankfully you didn’t have to deal with shaky hands and god damn messed up eyeliner or specks of mascara this time, and that is definitely something you feel very thankful for.

You aren’t going to go with anything crazy on your face, but still, the simplest of looks can sometimes make you repeat them at least 4 times in a row to be perfect.

“Does it look good?” You ask Vince and he nods right away, gaining a smile from you.

You check the time and you have a total of 20 minutes to get dressed and choose a pair of heels before your friend, and coworker, comes to get you.

“What time will you be back?” He asks from behind you.

“Probably, like...” You think for a second, “Eleven? And I think that’s a bit of a stretch.”

He nods and your heart tightens at the sight of his sad expression. God, he doesn’t have to break your heart like that.

“I can come back a little early if you want?” You ask, turning on your chair to actually face him. “We can go have a late dinner or something.”

“No, no.” He shakes his head scrunching his face a little, “I want you to enjoy your night.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, a slight look of worry on your features.

“Yeah.” He nods.

He leans forward in his chair and gives you a soft kiss on the lips, careful with your lipstick. You pull back with a smile and bring your hand up to clean the thin layer of red color from his lips.

You caress his cheek carefully, a small pout unconsciously appearing on your lips as he continues to look slightly saddened by you having to leave, and he kisses your palm.

“Now, go get your dress. I have to see it on you.” He says with a smile and you smile back.

“You’ve seen it like 5 times already.” You say while standing up.

“So?”

(...)

“Have fun.” He tells you as he squeezes you closer to him in your embrace.

“I’ll try.” You say with a smile.

He presses a few kisses over your neck and your almost completely exposed shoulder, and your phone vibrates on your hand. Your friend is here.

“Text me on your way home, yeah?” He asks, pulling away a bit to look at you in the face.

You nod and he takes a last look at you. You smile as he studies your face and his hold around your waist tightens ever so slightly. 

You give his shoulders a slight squeeze as well and your hands slide over to his chest. Before you pull away completely, you give him a quick kiss.

“Bye.” You whisper, smile prominent on your tone.

“Bye...”

You walk out of the apartment, finally, after having the door open for so long, and Vince looks down at his phone. He still has five hours to go.

He looks around the empty, and very, very silent, apartment and sighs. 

What the fuck is he supposed to do now?

Wrote this like in, like, half an hour...? hope it’s good.